


'Til I Hear You Sing

by Copper_Nails (Her_Madjesty)



Series: Opera House!AU [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Angst and Humor, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family Issues, Kylo Ren Doesn't Know How to Flirt, Kylo Ren Doesn't Know How to Friend, Operas, Pride and Prejudice Themes, REALLY slow, Slow Burn, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Tension, assholes in denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 90,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_Madjesty/pseuds/Copper_Nails
Summary: Breaking News! The Coruscant Opera House is set to host a celebratory production of The Phantom of the Opera in honor of the show's twenty fifth anniversary. Soprano Leia Organa, retired, will be returning to the stage in the role of Madame Giry, all while training newcomer Rey Kenobi to take her place as the Angel of Music. Who is set to play her love-struck counterparts? Casting beyond this has yet to be announced, but rumor has it that Kylo Ren has been seen lurking around the Opera House again, humming some of the show's best known songs under his breath...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! Remember back in January when I teased an Opera!AU piece? Well, there's one day left until December hits - I guess I'd better drop it now.
> 
> In all seriousness, I've loved spending so much time working on this piece. I hope you like what I have in store for you! XOXO

Her grandfather keeps her close as he guides her through the too-large crowd that’s gathered outside of the Coruscant Opera House. He keeps his head low as they go, glancing back every now and then to send a smile her way.

Rey is dazzled. The lights atop the theatre call sign are spellbindingly bright; she tucks her hand close against her grandfather’s and hears him chuckle as he ushers her forward.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, it has been noted, is rarely without a smile when his granddaughter is with him.

“Come on, darling,” he says, giving her hand the gentlest of tugs. “We have to move faster if we want to make it on time.”

Rey nods, her brow creasing, and does her best to keep up. The two of them take the theatre’s front steps two at a time, though Obi-Wan pauses long enough to hold the front door open for the lagging child. Rey walks through the Coruscant’s front doors for the first time with her grandfather trailing behind her. She misses his fond laughter as her jaw drops open.

If possible, the theater’s lobby is more packed with people than the steps are outside. It’s harder to stay together, but the two of them manage. It’s only when they pass through a door marked ‘Cast Members Only’ that Obi-Wan’s cautious grip on Rey’s hand becomes a loose one.

Rey Kenobi is seven years old, and her grandfather is a giant. He smiles warmly at the few people who go rushing past him, tall and equally light on his feet. The hand still tucked into Rey’s reminds her to keeping moving forward, but it does not demand.

“I’ll show you around later,” Obi-Wan promises when he feels her start to go astray. “But right now, we have work to do.”

They slip into a small room barely bigger than Rey’s bedroom tucked away at the end of a shaded hall. Rey looks around and sees herself reflected in a long mirror surrounded by beady lights, then giggles. Her face looks orange in the strange light until her grandfather turns the rest of the room’s lights on. He catches her eye in the mirror and throws her a wink.

“I knew you’d like it here,” he says as he pulls a wooden chair up in front of the mirror. “I promise, Rey, that we can explore some more when we have more time, but I have to get ready quickly. Can you stand by me and keep an eye on the clock?”

Rey nods and does just that. In the moments she glances back, she sees her grandfather smearing a layer of pale paint across his face. He slicks down his hair and sprays it with a can of hairspray, then pulls on a cap that makes him look bald. Rey goes to giggle and tastes hairspray on her tongue. Obi-Wan secures his wig while she’s chasing the taste out of her mouth and is moving away from the mirror by the time she looks to him again. He takes a dark suit from the rack on the other side of the room and pulls a waistcoat over his white shirt, careful to keep the fabric away from his face.

“What’s that?”

 “This is my costume,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m supposed to be a rich man tonight, so the director wants me to look a bit posh.” He finishes doing up the buttons of his waistcoat, then starts on his cuffs. He struggles for a brief moment, then looks to his granddaughter. “Can you help me?” he asks, offering her his arm.

Rey leaps from her spot at once. Her small fingers fit the buttons into their proper holes and leave the cuffs looking perfect, if she does say so herself. When she’s finished, Obi-Wan holds his arm up to the light and admires her handiwork.

“Thank you, darling,” he says before gently ruffling her hair. Rey giggles and ducks her head.

There’s a knock on the door. “Two minutes until curtain, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Yes, thank you; two minutes,” Obi-Wan calls back. He shrugs on his suit jacket and checks himself in the mirror one last time before turning away. He takes Rey’s hand and leads her from the room, careful to turn the lights off behind him.

They move back through the dark hallway, dodging people in large dresses and the occasional suit as they go. There’s a bright spot of stage just ahead of them, and if Rey squints, she can see a line of women in long black dresses already standing on it.

“Who are they?” she asks, her voice too loud in the quiet.

“They’re nuns,” her grandfather says in a whisper. Rey nods solemnly and lets him guide he to a spot buried in shadows. He leaves her for a moment only to return with a chair. All the while, Rey’s ears are perked, listening as, just beyond her sight, people chatter with one another and violins squeal through their tuning.

“Rey,” her grandfather says as she adjusts herself in her new seat. “I’m going to need you to stay here, alright? I’ll be going out on stage for part of tonight, and you can watch me, but you can’t come out there with me. Do you understand?”

The noise on the stage quiets. Rey doesn’t answer him, her eyes going wide as the nuns on stage step forward, adjusting their strange hats and breathing deep.

“I need you to answer me, Rey,” Obi-Wan says.

Rey looks up at him and offers him a nod and a smile. “I understand.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan presses a quick kiss to his granddaughter’s head. “I’ll be back in a little while. I hope you like the show, Rey.”

A woman, blonde and bright, goes sailing past him, and Rey’s attention is utterly redirected. She thinks she hears him laugh, softly, but then Maria is singing and she’s swept away.

Before she knows it, her grandfather is out on stage, his head held high and his voice proud. She applauds softly when he finishes his entering tirade, then curls in on herself.

Obi-Wan has just finished his first song of the night when a hand claps down on Rey’s shoulder.

She jolts out of her trance and looks up, up, upward until she sees the face of the person behind her. He’s almost entirely obscured by shadows, but Rey thinks she can see him smiling.

“What are you doing back here, young one?” the man asks. His voice, Rey thinks, sounds rough – he doesn’t sound like he sings for a living.

“That’s my grandfather,” she says, pointing towards Obi-Wan. “He said I could watch, but only if I was quiet.”

The strange man laughs, but it’s a soft thing. Rey frowns as he comes to crouch at her side; the wrinkles in his forehead are too deep, as are the ones around his eyes. He does not look like a man, she thinks, who was ever meant to get old.

“I used to work with your grandfather, you know,” he says. “He taught me everything I know.”

“So you sing to?”

“Not anymore.” The man shakes his head. He presses something into her open hands – a program from the night’s performance. Rey looks down and sees her grandfather’s glossy photo staring up at her, along with several illegible words written in marker along the bottom.

“Show that to him when he’s done for the night, won’t you?” the strange man asks.

Rey grimaces, struggling to read the words for the dark. At last, she gives up and nods.

“Good kid.” The stranger claps her on the shoulder again, then pulls himself up to his full height.

On stage, a troop of children have ascended a set of stairs that Rey knows are fake; she can see the wood beams behind them and had worried, briefly, when they’d been pushed onto the stage, that the children would fall off of them. She’s less worried now, focused as she is on the program in her hands.

“Who’s Anakin Skywalker?” she asks, looking up, but the strange man has already disappeared.

She doesn’t show the program to her grandfather – she’s forgotten about it by the time the show’s ended and doesn’t find it again until long after he’s sent her home. It stays in her desk as she grows older, always out of sight, though she takes it with her when she starts taking classes at the Conservatory of Jakku. She pins it to her corkboard after her grandfather dies, ancient and well-loved at ninety two, and presses gentle kisses to it before each of her auditions.

She graduates a year after his death, third in her class and sought after by several well-known theatres. She spends her first few months post-graduation gently declining them. Once the drama of her academic success dies down, she sends out audition tapes to her own top ten.

Those who are following her fledgling career are not surprised when they discover that those tapes have made their way to Coruscant Opera House. They are even less surprised when the house offers her a contract.


	2. Chapter 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured it'd be good to get two chapters up today, just so this work can have a foundation. Hope you like it! XOXO

Coruscant Opera House has a reputation for producing legends. The Skywalker siblings laid the foundations of their legacies there, first separately, then together. Before them, there was their father, and alongside him was his teacher, the world-renowned Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It’s not just the reputation of the theatre, though, that draws talent in. The building shines like a jewel in the middle of a silver and gold city, tall even amongst the tallest of buildings. Its circle drive fills with rows of cars every weekend, and beautiful people of all races and creeds grace the staircase that leads to its front doors. The individual steps themselves look as though they’ve been carved out of the city itself. Even the most seasoned performer can feel their breath catch as they climb that famed front walk.

Rey Kenobi walks up those steps every day, now. House performers can always go in through the back doors, but she feels that climbing the steps give each day a sense of ceremony.

All the same, ceremony can’t make the first Monday of the New Year any more bearable.

Too-cold slush pours down on her flimsy umbrella as Rey sprints down the street. Her bus is late _again_ , but she has no time to wait: it’s better to be wet than late to work, especially on a day like today.

The Coruscant, for all its artistic appeal, likes to keep its talent in-house. Whenever a new show is announced, house veterans are offered the first (and sometimes, the only) chances to audition. Thus, when new shows are announced, the rush for auditions is more comparable to a scramble.

An announcement dropped at the end of the fall season made the house and the musical world at large go wild: the Coruscant Opera House would be putting on a week’s worth of performances come the start of May celebrating _The Phantom of the Opera_ ’s twenty fifth anniversary. Auditions for the principal roles were set to open on the first Monday of the season – the first Monday of the New Year.

Rey swears as she nearly slips off the sidewalk and forces herself to run faster.

She takes the front steps of the Coruscant two at the time and flings the front doors open, moving past theatre tours and early ticket buyers without so much as a second glance. She tears down the back hallways and ignores the concerned looks of her fellow artists, too distracted by the streams of water running cold fingers down her back.   

“Rey!”

Rey doesn’t even bother to turn her head. “Not now, Finn!”

Her friend comes into view for less than a second, but Rey manages to flash him a smile. He waves at her as she goes to round a corner, his grin the brightest thing she’s seen in a week. She’s missed him this past performance season, and it’s good to have him back where he belongs.

The practice rooms at the Coruscant are run by a series of support staff that most artists don’t know of the name of, but Rey has become acquainted with more than one or two. Her favorite – one Poe Dameron – grins at her as she comes barreling in before throwing a not-so-subtle glance his watch.

“Pushing it today, aren’t you?” he teases.

Rey sticks out her tongue at him and keeps moving forward. She hears Poe call after her, but doesn’t bother to stop. She barges into her favorite room and slams the door shut behind her.

An aborted note forces her to halt. Rey freezes, then turns around, her mouth already open and ready to apologize.

The figure in the room is tall, taller than anyone Rey has ever met before. His mouth, still open, closes slowly, and Rey swears she can see him start to grind his molars. She presses her back against the door, hand scrambling to find the abandoned doorknob.

“Sorry!” she squeaks, and then flees the room.

Poe is still shaking his head when she comes scurrying back into the lobby.

“Why didn’t you tell me _he_ was in there?” Rey demands.

“I tried to,” Poe says with a grin. “But it seems like you’re in a hurry today.”

“Yeah, thanks, smartass,” Rey grumbles. She taps her foot while she waits for him to fish her out a key, too distracted by fear to look at the one he’s choosing.

“You better hurry,” he tells her as he passes her the key. “I don’t want to be the one to tell Ms. Organa that her son’s been murdering artists again.”

“You’re hilarious,” Rey deadpans. All the same, it takes her no time at all to make herself scarce.

Why Kylo Ren joined the Coruscant Opera House is a mystery that has been well explored over his year and a half with the company. The son of Leia Organa, it came as no surprise that he was not only talented, but that his rise was a quick one. Some of the rumors about him made mention of years spent with the First Order Theatre, where he was said to have toured under the hand of one Walter Snoke alongside talents Rebecca Phasma and Armitage Hux. What drove him away from the company is unclear, but it’s said that both he and his companions had turned up on Leia’s doorstep, begging for her to buy them out of their contracts. Now, here he was, polluting Rey’s practice room and stalking the halls with what had become a trademark sullen scowl.

Had he been less of an asshole, Rey would have considered befriending the quiet behemoth. His wit, however, consisted solely of insults, and after she caught him tearing into Finn on his first day with the company, her opinion of him had been set. It didn’t matter to her whether he was Leia Organa’s son or not: he was a nuisance at best and a tyrant at worst, tramping through the theatre like he owned it.

Rey scowls as she locks the door to one of the freer practice rooms. With a shake, she sets her wet bag of things aside and pulls out her score. It’s managed to escape the worst of the slushy rain, much to her relief. Rey takes a deep breath and pulls herself back into the moment. Her warm up is as slow as she can allow it to be, precise as she opens her throat to the work of the day.

She works for fifteen minutes before Poe comes knocking. Rey peeks her head out of the practice room door and catches the man burying a grin. “Come on, Rey,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Time to go.”

Despite herself, Rey finds herself hesitating. “Are you sure?” she asks, biting her lip. “Can’t I have a minute more?”

Something in Poe’s face softens. “You’re gonna be fine, flygirl,” he says. “But I can guarantee that you won’t get the role if you show up to stage late.”

Rey huffs, then ducks back into the practice room. She grabs her things and emerges a moment later to follow Poe down Coruscant’s long, whitewashed halls. Rey lets the familiar color sooth her as she walks, old memories bubbling up in her mind. She hears her grandfather’s laughter as she turns the corner towards the main stage, sees the dressing room he once kept and that she now prefers. She lets her fingers linger on the cool wood as they pass it by and finds her nerves beginning to calm.

All the same, she freezes in the shadows of the deep red curtains. If she squints, she can see the other audition hopefuls sitting in the audience, all of them radiating nervous energy. A familiar shock of blonde hair makes itself known in the darkness, which means Rebecca Phasma is amongst the hopeful. Rey swallows hard and lets Poe’s hand move her when her legs stop working.

“You’ve got this,” he whispers, and then sends her on her way.

Rey enters stage left with her hands curled into fists, otherwise the picture of confidence. She sees her instructor sitting in the audience with Luke at her side and is able, somehow, to muster up a smile.

“Miss Kenobi,” Leia says, her professionalism masking any affection she may bear her protégé. “Welcome. Which song will you be performing for us today?”

“‘Think of Me’, from Act One.” How she manages to keep her voice steady, Rey will never know. She fights down a flush as Leia flips through her score. It’s terrible, the feeling that threatens to burn away her nerve; Leia _premiered_ the role of Christine on this stage; she knows, just as everyone knows, which songs came from where in the score.

“Good.” Her mentor nods, unaware of (or willfully ignoring) Rey’s blunder. “Our pianist will give you two bars, and then you may begin. Take all the time you need to prepare.”

Rey glances up at the piano and makes eye contact with a pianist she doesn’t recognize. She smiles and holds up one finger, then another four: a request for one minute’s warm up, and a start four bars before she comes in. When the pianist nods back at her, she turns away and tries to motivate herself to begin.

She thinks of her grandfather and breathes.

When the first four bars of the song echo through the theatre, Rey swallows her nerves and begins.

The Coruscant main stage is known to be an auditory marvel. Rey’s voice, stretched from years of operatic and classical training, echoes off the ceiling. The air rushes out of her; she leaps from note to note like she’s born to it. When she goes into the repetition of the chorus, she feels like she’s able to fly.

The song is over almost as soon as it’s begun. Rey takes a bow and waits for her dismissal, watching as the Skywalker twins scribble on their notepads.

“Thank you, Miss Kenobi,” Leia says, at last. “We’ll have the cast list up by tomorrow. You’re dismissed.”

Rey thanks her again and half-runs off the stage, looking back just in time to catch the wink Luke throws her direction. She doesn’t know if there are any auditions after her, but sitting in the audience is far from mandatory, and she doesn’t think she can deal with as assessment of the competition. She retreats back to her practice room and chugs a glass of water, her throat too dry for so early in the day.

According to the schedule posted in the practice room wall, she has rehearsal for _Barber of Seville_ before noon and an individual session with Leia after lunch, but nothing more. Rey leans her head back against the well-padded walls and presses her empty cup to her lips. She’s slow to bring herself back to the present, but she manages, the pieces of herself fitting together like notes of a song. By the time she pushes herself off the wall, Rey is humming, and her internal metronome has slowed.

*

_The Barber of Seville_ is set to premiere in less than two weeks, so group rehearsals are a rigorous process. Rey is more than ready to go when the time comes for lunch, no matter how clever the music is nor how much she likes her companions. She makes her way to the theatre’s pseudo-cafeteria and stands in line with one of the women in the chorus, chatting about nothing as she orders a sandwich. When her companion leaves her, Rey makes her way over to one of the cafeteria’s tables and claims it for herself, nibbling at her sandwich while she stares out through the Coruscant’s long, wide windows.

It’s not long before Finn comes to join her. He’s grinning like he’s shining from the inside out, and it’s impossible for Rey not to grin back.

“There you are!” he says, sliding into the seat across from her. “I can’t believe you didn’t have time to stop for me this morning; your audition better have been great, peanut, or I’m going to be offended.”

Despite herself, Rey laughs. “I’m not sure how it went, really,” she admits before taking another bite of her sandwich. “I _hate_ auditions; you know I do. If I come out of one feeling confident, I know I’ve done something to mess it up.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” Finn scolds. “You’re perfect, peanut, I know you are, and so do the Skywalkers.”

Rey swats at him, but can’t keep herself from smiling. “And you’re ridiculous,” she says. “How did yours go, by the way?”

To her amusement, Finn snorts. “I didn’t miss any notes,” he says. “I think that’s got to count for something, though I’m not sure what.”

“That’s a step in the right direction.” Rey nods. They keep their faces composed for one long moment before breaking down into giggles. “You’ll be fine,” Rey tells him, pressing her hand over her mouth. “After all, spending any amount of time with M. Yoda would make anyone want to put you back up on that stage.”

Finn crosses his arms over his chest and plays at looking hurt. “Are you saying that it’s just my reputation that’ll get me up there again? Peanut, I’m almost offended.”

“I’m just saying,” Rey grins. “I’d put you up there, too, if I knew what kind of crowd you’d bring in.” Her snark is rewarded when Finn lunges for her sandwich, his face bright with unrestrained laughter. They dance around each other for a few moments more, making a ruckus in the corner of the cafeteria until one of the older staff members calls for them to calm down.

Rey wipes a tear from her eye as Finn retakes his seat and sets what remains of her sandwich aside. “I hope we get to sing together again,” she admits. “It’s been a while since we have, and even longer since it’s been on stage.”

“We can sing together whenever you want; all you’ve got to do is ask.” Finn rolls his eyes. “But I know what you mean. You’d make a decent Christine, I think, but I would make a _boss_ Raoul.”

She’s tempted to reach out and smack him again, but Rey’s too content to do anything about it. “Yes, you would,” she says with an encouraging nod. “You’d be the best Raoul this stage has seen since Han ‘fuck me baritone’ Solo.”

“Oh, I know,” Finn says, leaning back in his chair. He bats his eyelashes at her in a parody of a smolder. “Let me protect you, my precious snowflake,” he purrs. The expression holds for all of five seconds, and then he’s back and laughing at her again.

Rey tries to hide her snickers behind one of her hands, but it’s a sorry attempt. “Save it for your boyfriend, Monsieur Victonte,” she teases. “I’m sure he missed your bad flirting almost as much as I did.”

“You think so?” Finn asks. “I never really thought Sidon was into all of that.”

“His loss,” Rey says with a shrug. “You’ve got me quivering in my boots.”

“Oh, my.”

The clock in the corner of the cafeteria starts to chime, calling them away from each other and back to their jobs. Rey falls in step beside her friend, wadding up the plastic wrap that surrounded her sandwich before tossing it towards the nearest wastebasket.

“Good luck with your practice,” she calls as Finn starts away. “Meet me afterward so we can have dinner?”

“Not tonight, peanut,” Finn calls back, his smile a touch sad. “I’m going over to Sidon’s, and I don’t think you’re gonna want to be involved in that.”

“Definitely not,” Rey says with a laugh. “Have fun, then!”

“See you later!” Finn throws her a careless wink as he turns down the hall, disappearing amongst a crowd of theatre employees. Rey turns away and starts down a different hall, the noise of the theatre fading as she approaches Leia Organa’s private offices.

Leia is not listed on any theatre materials as the Coruscant’s director, but she may as well be. She serves both as instructor and business manager, dividing her day between her personal students, general rehearsals, and the mountains of paperwork that so often litter her desk. The theatre’s real director – one Jennifer Mon Mothma – ceded her position long ago to Leia’s impatient hands.

Rey comes up on her instructor’s office only to find her standing in front of it, deep in conversation with her twin brother. Rey slows at once, lingering just out of earshot until one of them sees her. It’s Luke who catches her eye first. He turns away from his sister and offers her a wide grin.

“Rey!”

Leia turns, as well, and greets her protégé with a gentle nod. She sends Luke on his way before motioning Rey inside her office, throwing what looks to be a glare over her protégé’s shoulder before allowing the door to swing shut.

“Can I ask what that was about?” Rey manages, one of her eyebrows creeping upward.

“Nothing of great important,” Leia replies. She nudges Rey in the direction of her private practice rooms and trails just behind. “It’s all of this auditioning nonsense. I’d like to move on and get down to the real work of it, but Luke has – ideas.”

“Ideas?” Rey’s eyebrow creeps higher, but her suspicion is offset by her smile.

Leia throws up her hands in mock surrender before reaching for her ‘Seville’ score. “You did well today,” she says as she flips through the booklet.

Despite four years of exposure, the praise still makes Rey flush. Leia Organa is as sturdy and unyielding as stone; her compliments are not to be taken lightly. Her reassurance is one of the many things Rey uses to steady herself when she begins to doubt her own performances.

“Thank you.”

“But you used too much vibrato.” Yes, there’s the criticism Rey was waiting for. If she admits it to herself (and she’d much prefer not to), it’s more reassuring than any praise Leia could give her. “We’ll work on ‘Seville’ today, of course, but I want to go over some of the passages of your audition piece with you. We may call it an opera, Rey, but it’s not one, not really.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Leia catches Rey’s eye and offers her what looks to be a smirk, but it’s gone before Rey can truly see it.

They drill for the better part of an hour, moving through passages of ‘Seville’ and into the bulk of ‘Think of Me’. Rey’s note are ringing bold and clear for the first time in the hour when the door to the practice room slams open. Her voice cuts off as a figure comes stalking in, his head lowered so he doesn’t hit the top of the doorframe.

“Kylo,” his mother scolds. “What have I told you about interrupting my lessons?”

“When were you going to tell me about the auditions?” Kylo snaps. The air in the room becomes tense at once, and Rey sees Leia go still and calm.

“The auditions for what?” the woman asks, her voice as steady as stone.

“Don’t do this,” Kylo grumbles, leaning back against the wall. “The auditions for ‘Phantom of the Opera’. Phasma told me she was auditioning, but no one mentioned that they were being held today.”

“Perhaps you should have asked,” his mother says. “I’m afraid they’re all wrapped up for the time being. Anyway, if I had told you about them, you would’ve shown up and tried to frighten away anyone you didn’t like.”

Kylo snorts but doesn’t deny it. “Anyone who I’d have scared obviously shouldn’t get the part.”

“That could be argued,” Leia says. “Christines in the past have emphasized their fear of the Phantom.” She pauses, and a gleam of amusement enters her eyes. “Perhaps I should have invited you to sit in, after all.”

As amusing (and frankly, intimidating) as Kylo’s interruption is turning out to be, it is this that snaps Rey out of her surprise. “Wait,” she says, catching the attention of both her companions. “What do you mean, ‘let him sit in’?”

Kylo crosses his arms in something that looks like victory, but Rey tries not to spare him a glance. It’s Leia’s face she focuses on, watching as it twitches into something like annoyance. “My son will be playing the Phantom in our upcoming performance,” she admits, after a long moment.

Rey’s jaw snaps shut. She casts her gaze over to Kylo and takes him in with narrowed eyes. She wants to smack the smugness off his face – her palms twitch with it – but she can’t, not with his mother in the room.

“Did anyone else even audition for the role?”

“I held auditions for the Phantom prior to the New Year,” Leia says, some of the strength returning to her voice. “I was as fair with those auditions as I will be with the rest of them.” Her voice remains calm, but Rey can tell that she’s been preparing for this fight ever since she made her decision.

“Despite whatever your insignificant opinion may be,” Kylo adds. “I’ve been doing this for quite a long time. You shouldn’t question my talent when I’ve been with the company longer than you have.”

“But you haven’t,” Rey says, her body whirling around. “I’ve got two years on you, hot shot, so don’t go pulling any seniority cards on me!”

To her great distress, Kylo looks unperturbed. “I’ve been involved with the company since I was born,” he sneers. “Do you really think you have anything on me?”

The two of them stare at each other as the tension in the air grows thicker. Rey’s hands have curled into fists by the time Leia breaks the silence. “Kylo,” she says, her voice unquestionably firm. “Go and wait for me in my office, please. I’ll be out in just a moment.”

He’s still staring at her, Rey realizes, even after she’s looked away. She turns back in time to see him go storming out of the practice room and winces as he leaves the door open in his wake. Leia lifts a hand to her temples and sighs, clearly trying to stave off a child-induced headache.

“My apologies, Rey,” she says, at last. “I want you to go ahead and sing this piece in full before I leave you today. After that, we will be done.”

Rey doesn’t dare to argue. The practice room door remains open as Leia guides her through the song, marking on her score with pencil as Rey makes her way through. When it comes to a close, she is dismissed, forced to carry her things past the glowering tower of black that now resides in Leia’s office.

“Asshole,” she murmurs as the office door swings shut.

She meets with Finn when his practice is done and manages to walk with him a ways before they split off for home. It’s dark by the time Rey reaches her apartment, but she doesn’t mind. She stumbles inside and lets her things drop to the floor before curling up on her couch, the weight of the day heavy on her shoulders.

There’s nothing much for her to do other than sleep, now, unless she wants to scrounge through her refrigerator for a snack. Rey considers it for a moment, but stays firmly on her couch. It’s more comfortable here, anyway, and she doesn’t feel all that hungry.

The night passes. Sleep has never been a favorite friend of hers, even with the amount of work she does in a day. Tonight it seems bound to avoid her completely. Rey stares at the ceiling for what feels like hours, alternating between listening to radio shows on her cell phone and smashing her face into a pillow. It’s half past two in the morning when she forces herself off the couch.

Her pantry is stocked with tea just for nights like this. She puts a mug of water in the microwave and leans against the counter, waiting for it to warm.

There are benefits to living alone when you can’t sleep. No one gets mad at you when you turn on all the lights, or when the microwave beeps for much longer than necessary. If you feel like putting on a late night performance of your favorite songs, no one’s there to judge you, and no one tells you to turn your music down.

Rey likes living alone. She’s been on her own for years, ever since a particularly bad roommate experience turned her off living with people completely. It’s a little more expensive, yeah, and she’s not beneath complaining about her rent, but she likes having a space to call her own. It’s a relief to have something that truly belongs to her and only her.

The microwave beeps. Rey pulls out her mug and dips her tea bag in, watching as it floats to the top of the water. She grabs a spoon and makes her way back into the living room, where she buries herself in the corner of the couch with the mug pressed up against her chest.

The clock on the wall chimes as three in the morning passes. Rey grimaces over her cup. She has to be awake and at work in six hours, and going in sleepless is going to be less than pleasant. She knows. It’s happened before.

She kills time in a half doze, watching bad television and surfing the web. It’s six when she looks back at the clock. Her tea is gone, and she hasn’t gotten herself another cup. Rey pulls on her headphones and decides to try and get a few hours, even if she knows it won’t do her any good.

She’s almost asleep when her email alert goes off. Rey swears and throws the headphones from her head, tears threatening to form in her eyes. She considers ignoring the email, but the alert that’s popped up on her computer informs her that it’s coming from the Coruscant. Rey sighs and pushes her hair out of her eyes, then pulls the laptop closer so she can actually read the message.

She reads it once. Then again. And again. Any hope of sleep is abandoned as a smile, bright as the sun, creeps over her face.

_Dear Miss Kenobi,_ the message says. _Thank you for your audition for the role of Christine Daae. My brother and I would like to invite you to perform the role for the 25 th anniversary edition of _Phantom of the Opera. _There will be a meeting at two this afternoon for all of the cast members; if you intend to accept this role, please be in attendance. If not, please respond to this email and let me know._

_We’re proud of you, Rey,_ a note at the end says. _Looking forward to working with you on this project. – Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa-Solo._

Another benefit of living alone, Rey decides, is that no one can hear her squealing.

She dances around her living room, her laughter broken up by moments of shock and delight. She’s Christine. She’s _Christine_. One of the most relevant performers of her day and age has decided that she, Rey Kenobi, is worthy enough to be her successor for the role of _Christine Daae._ It’s madness, pure madness, and Rey is ecstatic.

It takes her longer than she thought to calm herself down, but when she does, she immediately runs for her phone. Her hands shake as she unlocks it, eager to send a text off to Finn. In her rush she almost misses the text that’s already waiting for her.

<< Finn Trooper:

I’m Raoul, Rey! I got the role! >>

A text will no longer suffice. Rey throws herself down on her bed and calls him.

The two of them spend a good ten minutes just shouting at each other, too excited for anything to make sense. The world feels like it’s a firecracker, and both of them are sparking off one another in their glee. When they do eventually calm down, they agree to meet for breakfast. Nine is still three hours away, and there’s no reason for them to wait to celebrate. Rey hangs up the phone and runs for the shower, feeling like she’s swallowed the sun. She has the terrifying though, as she steps into the shower, that she’s actually fallen asleep, and the world she’s living in is all a dream. Then, in her haste, she trips and smacks her head against the shower wall.

“Ouch!”

The pain is enough to convince her that, no, this is, in fact, the real world. Rey grins through the pain and forces herself to focus, taking careful steps as the water pours down on her back.

An hour later, she meets Finn outside their favorite diner. He takes her hands in his and drags her inside, shouting his order to the still weary chef. They sit at the counter and watch her make their breakfast, their hands still clasped together.

“Have you told Sidon yet?” Rey asks.

“Not yet,” Finn says. “He’s a monster if I call him before ten. Thought it’d be better to tell him when we can appreciate it together.” The look on his face makes Rey groan, but she’s smiling while she does.

Their conversation is interspersed with bursts of giggles until their food arrives: a stack of pancakes nearly half a foot tall, filled with chocolate chips and covered in whip cream and cherries. Some of the whip cream ends up on Finn’s nose before he manages to take a bite, and all Rey can do is laugh while trying not to choke on a mouthful of chocolate chips and goodness.

The pile dwindles between their conversation until there’s nothing left but an empty plate. They split the check and walk out of the diner, their shoulders bumping together. The sun barely visible over the roof of the Coruscant, and it casts the world in a golden pink, refracting off of the gilded roof and back into the sky. Rey, in her awe, comes to a stop, and only moves again when Finn nudges her shoulder.

“We’re some of the luckiest people in the world, you know that?” he says as they walk up the theatre’s front steps. Rey shakes her head and smile, leaning into his shoulder as they open the front doors.

The cast list is pinned to the bulletin board by the door and has a crowd around it too thick to pierce. Finn tries, anyway, while Rey stands on her toes from the back. She catches a glimpse of Phasma somewhere near the front, and a flash of red hair by her side: undoubtedly Armitage Hux. She feels a moment of guilt, but pushes it aside. She earned this role, and she will do it justice.

Finn waves at her from the front a moment later, and Rey gives up on her polite attempt to see from the back. She moves through the crowd to join him, keeping her head low as she goes. She can see her name at the top of the list, could see it from the back of the crowd. The blush that takes her cheeks spreads all the way down to her toes; the performers who recognize her clap her on the back as she moves past them. Rey’s as luminous as a tomato by the time she reaches Finn’s side. He wraps himself around her to keep straying hands from reaching her, his chest heaving with warm laughter.

Phasma has gotten Carlotta, or so it seems; the guilt Rey felt disappears at once. Hux is her Piangi. A woman named Jessika Pava has taken the role of Meg Giry, and duo Ello Atsy and Temmin ‘Snaps’ Wexley are serving as the directors.

There are two names, though, that catch Rey’s eye. The first is Leia’s, listed next to the role of Madam Giry. Rey nods at that; her mentor could undoubtedly play the role without actually _acting_ , seeing as how she was already close to the role. The second is distinctly less pleasant, but less of a surprise. Kylo Ren’s name glares at her with its dark, bold ink, listed next to the lead role as Eric, the Phantom of the Opera.

Rey is startled by a flash of something like doubt that mars her beaming face. Leia didn’t choose her just to agitate her son, did she? She’s too professional for that. Rey bites her bottom lip and resolves to have that discussion with her mentor later. Finn looks over and mistakes her concern for something else entirely.

“Yeah, I know,” he shrugs, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “It sucks, but you gotta admit: he’ll make one hell of a whiny villain.”

Rey can’t help but snort at that. Kylo’s name is already circling through the crowd, whispered, as though speaking it loudly will bring the man down on everyone’s heads. Rey lets herself be warmed by Finn’s reassuring smile and allows herself to shrug the omen off.

“I have to get to my lesson,” she says before moving Finn’s arm off of her shoulder. “I’ll see you during the cast meeting today, yeah?”

“Of course you will,” Finn grins. “Chocolate Raoul wouldn’t cannot be stopped!”

Rey laughs and waves at him as she goes and makes her way through the crowd. It takes her longer than she’d like to find an empty hallway, but she does, and takes in the silence with an appreciative sigh.

Leia will understand if she’s a minute or two late, anyway. Rey leans back against the nearest wall and lets her eyes fall shut. There’s a weight on her shoulders that hadn’t been there before, and it pulls at her, but she refuses to let it win.

(She’d almost forgotten about that stuck up asshat, too. What a shame she had to be reminded.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are rocky starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Thanks so much for the lovely comments. I'm excited for you to read the rest of the piece! There have been posts floating around and calling for a Phantom of the Opera!AU for this pairing, but I wanted to explore those same tropes from a slightly different angle. I think it's going to be quite a ride. XOXO

Rey spends her morning lesson alternating between excitement, annoyance, and fear. Leia doesn’t comment on the cast list, nor on Rey’s emotional turmoil, but Rey catches her mentor looking at her more than once with a hint of concern in her eyes. Leia dismisses their lesson a few minutes early with a reminder about the cast meeting and with a hand on Rey’s shoulder.

“You’re going to be fine, Rey,” she says, and that’s the end of that.

Rey makes her way down to the theater cafeteria not quite calm, but steadier than she has been all day.

She’s halfway through a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the deli line when a shadow falls across her table. Rey looks up and sees Rebecca Phasma – all six feet seven of her – hovering nearby. The blonde makes a point of not meeting Rey’s eye as she takes the seat across from her, her own sandwich half gone but still dwarfing Rey’s.

Rey can’t help it. She stares.

The two of them sit for what feels like ages in awkward silence, letting the noise of the cafeteria flow on around them. It’s Phasma who speaks first.

“Congratulations, Kenobi.”

The air feels like it’s been kicked from Rey’s lungs. “Thanks,” she says, trying not to hide behind her sandwich. “I’m – I’m sorry you didn’t get the role.”

“What for?” Phasma shrugs. “Carlotta’s more challenging than Christine, anyway; I actually have to develop a personality.”

Rey sputters. She sets her sandwich aside and brings her elbows up on the table to point at her companion. “Hold on. Christine _has_ a personality, it’s just been wiped out by years of misinterpretation.”

Phasma’s lips, Rey sees, are twitching, but she doesn’t bother to repress her snort. “Oh, please. You don’t have to lie to me. I sang those songs, too, you know. I know the truth.”

To her great surprise, Rey finds herself laughing. The tension in the air disappears, and it seems the whole of the cafeteria breathes a sigh of relief. The two women talk through the majority of their lunch hour, punctuating character points with viscous bites of their sandwiches. It’s not until Rey stands to go that Phasma’s face grows serious.

“Rey,” she says, bringing the younger woman to a halt. “Have you ever sang with Kylo Ren before?”

Rey feels something in her blood run cold. “I haven’t,” she admits. “Do you think – is there anything I should be worried about?”

The look on Phasma’s face says more than any words will; it’s amused, but in a dreadful sort of way. “Don’t let him walk all over you,” she says, after a beat. “He’s used to getting his way; all he really needs is a smack upside the head, and you should be alright from there. Although,” she pauses and gives Rey a quick once over. “You may need to find something to stand on.”

“Oh, thanks,” Rey scoffs. Her face softens a moment later. “But really, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Phasma nods, then looks away. “See you later, then.”

“Yeah,” Rey manages a smile. “See you later.” She wanders off to the practice rooms for a pre-meeting warm up, her sandwich sitting heavy in her stomach. Poe’s not behind the receptionist desk today, and the person who is has a name Rey can never quite remember.

By the time Finn comes to retrieve her, she’s sang all of ten bars.

“Are you ready?” he asks from his place in the doorway. “We gotta go now, or we’re going to be late.”

“I’m ready,” Rey says, her voice unusually soft. She sees Finn push off the doorframe and come further into the room. Her wraps his arms around her middle and rests his head on her shoulder.

“Come on, Rey,” he says, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “We got this. There’s nothing that can stop us; it’s you and me, baby, until the world falls down.”

Despite her nerves, Rey finds herself smiling. “Where’d you get that line from?” she asks, gently jabbing the man with her elbow.

“I’m not really sure,” Finn shrugs as he pulls away. “I think it was a mess of a couple of them. Just about enough to make it an original, don’t you think?”

Rey rolls her eyes as she gathers her things, but lets him slip their hands together as they make their way out of the room.

It’s less terrifying, Rey thinks, to walk on the stage when you’re not alone. She settles herself near the edge of the pit and dangles her legs off the side, watching as the sea of people presses on around her. Finn finds someone to talk to along the way, and his laughter can be heard from the other side of the stage. Rey smiles and continues to look through the crowd until her eyes settle on Leia, set apart from the rest but smiling all the same.

The manager doesn’t have to do much to get her cast’s attention. A stern clearing of the throat, and the stage falls silent, everyone looking out to where Leia has commandeered the maestro’s music stand.

“Thank you for coming today,” Leia says, her voice carrying throughout the house. “I performed as Christine Daae on this stage when ‘Phantom of the Opera’ first premiered here. To have the opportunity to perform it again, especially on such an auspicious anniversary, is an honor I do not intend to take lightly. This company already expects much from you, and if you were not up to our standards, I guarantee you would not be here. That said, I want this musical to be sterling.” Leia smiles. “If you don’t hate me by the time the first performance comes around, then I haven’t been doing my job.”

A low chuckle circulates through the crowd. Finn and Rey exchange a look.

“You’re all the best of the house,” Leia continues. “And I have no doubt that we can put on one hell of a show.” 

A brief round of claps interrupts her speech. A stern look silences most of them, save for a rowdy whistle somewhere near the back. Rey’s willing to bet half of her paycheck that it’s Snaps, pushing his luck even on the first day.

“Now,” Leia says, bringing her hands together. “I had a schedule for group performances sent to your emails upon your acceptance of your roles. There’s a similar schedule posted by the practice rooms. You may reference it if you have any confusion about when you’re supposed to be where. It’s up to you, however, to schedule your individual practices. If you have duets or ensemble performances – and I don’t think there’s any one of you who doesn’t – you must confer with your fellow performers and arrange practices on your own. There will be workshops, of course, but you’ll want to be practicing as much as you can.” She pauses, and her gaze seems to harden with fierce, motherly pride. “I have high expectations for this performance. Do not disappoint me.”

The air hangs heavy for a moment. Then, Leia softens. “Now get out of here and get to work!”

The silence breaks. The crowd is slow to disperse as people clump together, exchanging schedules and phone numbers while still on stage. Rey turns her head in time to see a dark shadow fleeing from the crowd – Kylo Ren, with Armitage Hux moving along at his side. For a moment, Rey considers going after him, but then there’s a hand on her shoulder and she’s changing her mind.

“So,” Finn says, his face split into a grin. “How you feeling now, peanut?”

“Still nervous,” Rey admits as she lets him guide her from the stage. “If anything, things are _worse_ now. My individual practices are going to be _hell._ ”

“Oh, and they weren’t already?” Finn softens the statement with a wink. “You’ll be alright, peanut. The General won’t be too harsh on you, and hey: if you do screw up, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could fire me,” Rey says flatly. “I could make a fool of myself in front of the woman who debuted this role twenty five years ago. I could be smeared across the board by a thousand critics and never work again.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Finn insists, though Rey sees a spark of concern in his eyes. “Have some faith, Rey. We’re gonna get through this alright, just you wait and see. Anyway, what makes you think people will be paying attention to you when you’re playing against someone as talented as me?”

Rey laughs at his bravado and brings forth Finn’s genuine smile. “Of course,” she teases as they step into the hall. “How could I ever hope to measure up to the likes of you?”

“Exactly.” Finn nods. He hugs her as they go to part, his grip tight enough to make her grimace but warm enough to make her smile. “We’re gonna be fine,” he says again. “I mean, we’re gonna have to arrange practices with you-know-who sometime in the near future, but until then, we’re gonna be fine.”

“You-know-who?” Rey raises an eyebrow. “Are we singing with Voldemort now?”

“I wish,” Finn huffs. He lets her go and brushes invisible dirt from her shoulders, his eyes raised up to ask a blessing from the ceiling. “I don’t know how I’m gonna survive doing practices with him.”

“Easy,” Rey says, borrowing some of Finn’s too-bold confidence. “Kylo Ren may be a grade-A asshole, but he’s also a professional. I don’t think he’ll go around fucking things up just because he’s a grumpy little shit.”

“Are you sure?” Finn asks, one eyebrow raised. “Are you really, really sure?”

“I’m sure.” It’s the one thing she’s felt most confident about all day. “Go ahead and text me the times you want to rehearse, though, okay? We’ll go up against Voldemort _after_ we’ve worked things out on our own.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Finn grins. “I’ll try and text you later tonight, though, alright? I’ve got a date with Sidon, and it’s gonna be _hot, hot, hot_!”

“Oh, geez, TMI,” Rey says with a laugh. “Go away! Go to your practice!”

Finn waves at her as he turns down the hall, but his smile stays pressed up against her heart. Rey makes her way towards the practice rooms fighting back a smile of her own. The group rehearsal for _Barber_ has been rescheduled, so she has most of the day to herself, but her arias have been shaky and she wants to smooth them out before she really performs.

She leaves the Coruscant a few hours later in search of food not from a pseudo-cafeteria. The deli she haunts on her rare days off is just down the street, and she pushes through the front door to see a familiar face behind the counter. She waves and settles in a seat by the window and grins at the waitress who comes to take her order.

“Back again, Miss Kenobi?” The waitress – an older woman named Carrie – asks.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Rey says. “I’d like my usual, if that’s alright.”

“Always is, Miss Kenobi.” Carrie disappears back into the kitchen with a wry smile on her face and leaves Rey alone with her thoughts.

She eats slowly, once her meal arrives, and makes a game of watching the people who pass the deli by. The bar across the street is slowly filling, full of people flocking to the smell of greasy food and half-decent beer.

A couple comes into view, their child running just ahead of them. Rey feels her bites slow as she watches the child play with the stuffed animal she’s carrying in her arms. The two women who are her parents wander a little ways behind her, watchful but loving as their daughter runs up and down the sidewalk. Rey watches her, too, and feels something seize up in her chest.

“Everything good for you, hon?”

“Huh? Oh, yes.” Rey turns to see Carrie and smiles. “Thank you.”

When she looks back, the family is gone.

Rey sets her dinner aside, her appetite lost. She lingers for a few minutes longer, then pays her bill before returning to the Coruscant. The winter ballet is performing tonight, and while Rey doesn’t know the cast, she’s always found them fascinating. Perhaps in another life she could have danced, she thinks, as she finds her way to her seat.

The lights grow dim. The curtain rises to reveal three dancers on stage in the same moment someone settles themselves at their side. Rey glances over and sees Finn, his face tired and drained of its ever-present joy.

“What are you doing here?” Rey whispers. “I thought you had a date.”

“He cancelled,” Finn whispers back. “So I thought I’d come here, instead.”

The men on stage cage the woman at their center, their arms interlocking in some twisted embrace.

Rey reaches out and takes Finn’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Finn says with a shrug. “It’s just – I was really looking forward to seeing him, you know?”

The dancers circle one another, almost predatory in their stance. Then, the woman feints, first to the left, then to the right. The men catch her, and she spins, stuck between the two of them. Rey, for a moment, wonders if the metaphor is too obvious, but she’s not one to judge.

“You’ve told him that you’re Raoul, right?”

“Yeah,” Finn nods. “We were supposed to celebrate tonight.”

Rey squeezes his hand, her face pulling into a grimace. She hesitates for a moment, then forces her gaze away from the stage. "Let’s get out of here.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” She offers her friend the gentlest of smiles. “We can see this kind of thing any day of the week. Let’s go do something fun.” She grabs Finn’s hand as she stands from her seat and pulls him along with her as they escape from the theater.

“Rey, where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” Rey says with a laugh. The lights in the lobby are bright against the darkened sky, and she can see hints of amusement making their way back into Finn’s eyes. “But here’s what we’re going do to,” she says. “First, we’re going to get enormously drunk. Then, we’re going to find the greasiest fast food spot in the city and we’re going to order as many fries as they’ll let us. Then we’ll go back to your apartment, raid your chocolate cupboard, and watch bad soap operas until we fall asleep.”

“And then we’ll come into work with massive hangovers and cotton mouth!” Finn grins. “Great plan, Rey; A+.” A straggler in the lobby shushes them as he passes them by, but neither of the duo pay him any mind. They do wait, however, until he’s out of sight to burst into peals of laughter.

They don’t go out that night, despite their grand plans. Rey takes Finn home, instead. They sit in front of the television until night turns to morning, eating whatever in Finn’s refrigerator they both deem edible. Rey makes him tea before gathering up her things, the late hour and Finn’s yawning sending her on her way home.

“You can sleep on the couch, you know,” he says, caught in the middle of a yawn. “It’s not safe for you to be walking home alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Rey says, waving off his concern. “I’ll text you as soon as I’m home, I promise.”

“You better.” Finn yawns again. “Though I can’t promise that I’ll be awake.”

Rey smiles and kisses the top of his head. She closes the door slowly, watching him pull himself together enough to offer her a wave.

The night is cold, but not snapping. Rey pulls her coat tight around her, anyway, one hand on her mace and her other on her phone as she starts on her way home.

The Coruscant is familiar in the dark, even more so than in the light; the pulsing heart of the city that Rey’s made her life around. The soft glow of red neon mixes with dull yellows as Rey passes it by. Far above her head, clouds gather, and thunder echoes in the distance. The patter of light snow may make it easier to sleep, and goodness knows she needs the help.

There was a point, she knows, when she thought she wouldn’t come back to this town. Those few weeks after her grandfather’s funeral saw more sleepless nights than Rey cared to admit. She could only imagine the Coruscant stage, empty, with unfamiliar faces lingering in the shadows, no steady gaze to keep her voice strong. Rey remembers watching the sun rise one morning, her shoulders shaking through her tears as she swore: the Coruscant would not be her home, not without her grandfather there.

It took her a long time to come back to herself.

Now, the streets sing to her. She sees her grandfather on every corner, be it on the sidewalk or in the dark wings of the stage. There’s a comfort, Rey thinks, to the familiar, and the Coruscant is as much a part of her as any of her limbs or the sound of her voice.

So when something shifts, she sees it at once. A shadow detaches itself until it’s not a shadow, but a man. He’s stumbling down the street, his phone in hand, shouting nonsense that Rey can’t understand. She slows and tightens her grip on her mace, ready to turn and run at a moment’s notice.

It’s not until the man stumbles under a streetlight that she recognizes him.

“Kylo?”

Kylo Ren looks up at her, his mouth torn open in a snarl. Rey takes a step back, her heart rabbit quick in her chest. He looks like a disaster: bloodshot eyes, hair tangled and wild, his whole face illuminated and sickly in the yellow light.

“You,” he slurs, taking a step forward. Rey takes another step back and pulls her mace from her jacket. Kylo sees it, then registers it, then slows. He raises his hands in surrender and puts on what Rey thinks is his equivalent of a smile. “Don’t worry,” he tells her in a voice that is far too deep. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” Rey snaps. “What are you doing, getting drunk on a Tuesday?”

“Does it matter?” Kylo grins. “What are you doing out all alone?”

“I’m going home,” Rey says. “Like you _should_ be.”

“Oh, what? Are you my mother now?”

“No, thank goodness,” Rey says with a grimace. She glances across the street, then back at Kylo. He’s a big man, taller than any she’s ever met; if she runs, he’ll likely catch her. If she times it correctly, though, she can probably lose him in the dark. He’s three sheets to the wind, and no matter how ungodly tall he is, there’s no way he’ll be able to be as sneaky as she is. “I doubt you’d treat me any better if we were related, anyway,” she adds in a vague attempt to goad him further.

Kylo’s laugh sounds like the bark of an angry dog. “I’d probably treat you worse. You are quite like my mother, though.” The once over he gives her is hardly flattering. “You’re both ruled by your sentiments.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“That’s because it is.” Kylo laughs again. “It means that, when it comes to making important decisions, you’re more likely to follow what sounds nice instead of what is actually good for you.”

Rey glances across the street again, her nerves tingling beneath her skin. “I don’t follow.”

Kylo lurches forward (he’s been leaning on the lightpost, she realizes; it’s possible that she’ll be able to escape him, after all), his teeth glittering in the dark. “Oh, Rey,” her name leaves his mouth like a prayer. “How is it you think you got accepted into the company, anyway?”

Something stirs in Rey’s belly, something small, but angry. “Look,” she says. “I know you’re not happy about me getting the role –”

“Oh, please.”

“But your mother,” Rey pushes on, “seems to think I’m perfectly capable of handling it, _and_ of handling you.”

“Please,” Kylo growls as he continues to move closer. He’s growing taller, it seems, or maybe that’s the adrenaline pulsing through Rey’s veins. He leans down, so close that Rey can smell the alcohol on his breath. “You could never handle me. You’re too sentiment.”

He spits, and phlegm lands on the sidewalk.  “Tell me this, little Kenobi,” he says. “Is it really your talent that you think my mother likes about you? Or do you think you’re completely free from the influence of your last name?”

It hits Rey like a brick, the implication of her legacy. The hurt she feels doesn’t show on her face, or if it does, it doesn’t matter. She smacks Kylo hard and sends him reeling. The sound of it echoes across the street, and it takes her a moment to realize that she’s _shaking_ , with either fear or fury, though, she cannot tell. Kylo is cradling his cheek and _howling_ with something she assumes is laughter, but she decides to pay him no mind. She moves around him and marches down the street, making it to the corner before whirling back around.

Kylo Ren looks deranged in the yellow street light, his entire body quaking with twisted amusement.

“You,” Rey spits back into the evening starlight. “You have _no right_ to talk to me about legacy, _Benjamin Solo_.”

The jolt of pleasure she gets when his laughter cuts off would be worth questioning, were she less inclined to rip his head from his shoulders. Rey allows herself a triumphant smile before she turns back around. She doesn’t slow her pace until she’s rounded the corner and is halfway down the next block, and even then, her walk home is full of nervous glances cast pack over her shoulder. She only calms once she’s inside the safety of her own apartment and her door is locked soundly behind her.

She’s not sure if it’s the terror or the lack of sleep that has her shaking, but Rey’s legs refuse to hold her any longer. She sinks down into the carpet just in front of her door and leans back against the wood, counting her breaths until they’re the only thing left whirling around inside her head.

She’d be lying if she said she’d never considered the impact of her legacy before. It follows her on a daily basis, impacts nearly everything she does; it would be naïve to think that it didn’t have an influence on anyone else. But Leia – Leia is _not_ ruled by her sentiment. Leia _chose_ her because she was talented, because Rey _worked her ass off_ to learn to sing, and because she continues to work her ass off now.

No. She may have a legacy, but she’s living up to it, not using it. Rey sinks to the floor and forces the air from her lungs. A moment later, she opens her eyes and glances at the clock.

Three forty six in the morning. And here she’d thought she would be getting a good night’s sleep.

Rey hauls herself off of the floor and sends a text to Finn letting him know that she’s gotten home safe. Then, she moves into the kitchen.

It’s always the same, she thinks, as she reaches into her cabinet. Tea, lingering, waiting for the sun to rise, thinking and thinking and thinking until the world turns pink and, at last, she can manage a few hours of sleep. Nothing’s different about her life, even though it feels like everything has changed. If this pattern ever breaks, she’s not sure if she’ll be grateful or too confused to think.

When exhaustion doesn’t come, Rey sets aside her tea cup and moves for her computer.

She’s heard the role of Christine performed before, both in recordings and in person, but it’s been a pretty long time. True, she poured over her audition music and listened to the recordings then, but now – now the whole role belongs to her. Rey pulls up a dozen or so clips online and squashes the niggling voice that’s chirping in her head. It sounds obnoxiously like Kylo Ren, anyway, and she doesn’t want to think about him right now. She pulls the laptop closer and pulls on her earphones before hitting play, instead. 

Listening to generations of sopranos singing her role is both intimidating and relieving. There are so many styles – Sarah’s innocence, Sierra’s passion, Patti’s heart – and Rey feels herself relaxing, getting a feel for the music as it moves around her.

The versatility of a role is always important to her. Even if the base of a character doesn’t change, it’s a comfort to know she can play with their presentation.

She’s reluctant to look at clips of Leia. She’s done it before, of course; tore through the videos of ‘Think of Me’ before her rehearsal, but now it feels like a taboo. She doesn’t want to have this performance be a repeat. Rey argues with herself while another clip plays in the background and wonders when her eyelids got so heavy.

She makes a deal with herself. One video with Leia, and then she’ll try to sleep. She glances at the clock and winces; it’s about time she tried, anyway.

She queues up the video and bites her lip.

Leia has an air about her that is like none of the other Christines she’s seen so far. Rey leans in, captivated, as Leia storms across the stage, her cape billowing out behind her as her Raoul – one Han Solo – follows just behind.

Their ‘All I Ask of You’ is probably the best known rendition of the piece in modern musical history. Rey sighs as Han gathers Leia close, pressing a kiss to her brow that Rey’s not sure the blocking called for, but fits them, all the same. Leia makes no qualms about her disappointment when ‘Raoul’ doesn’t believe her, but she lets him win her over. It’s slow, and it’s special, and Rey has chills by the time the video ends.

The ‘suggested videos’ bar is tempting, too tempting. Rey lets her mouse hover over it before forcing herself away, shutting her computer and sliding it under her coffee table. She counts to five before making herself stand and wanders down the short hallway towards the bathroom.

When she falls into bed that night (though it’s far closer to morning), she can hear the quivering notes of her mentor ringing in her head.

She’ll be exhausted when she wakes, but, in the long run, she thinks all the studying will be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a spark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Thank you for all the lovely comments on the most recent chapter. I'm glad this story is hitting the right buttons with you. I can't promise that it'll be a fluffy path from our starting point - and so many of you commented on creeper!Kylo, I know, he's wonderfully sleazy - but I can say that it'll be an interesting one.
> 
> Enjoy! XOXO

Rey never used to enjoy her independent warm ups. Practice rooms were cold, unwelcoming places, and the sound of her own voice bouncing back off of soundproof glass doors made her far more uncomfortable than a warm up with another person. She’s adjusted as she’s gotten older, but nothing – nothing – compares to the feeling she gets when she warms up with a group.

The combination of one voice, no matter how strong or clear, with two dozen others of equal or better quality produces a sound more magical, more power than anything Rey has yet to encounter while warming up on her own. Working with professionals who train their voices every day has left her spoiled for good warm ups, and she feels, constantly, like the luckiest woman in the world.

This statement holds true even when someone she despises happens to be sitting next to her.

Rey Kenobi is nothing less than a professional, however, so when she walks into the reading hall and sees Kylo Ren sitting next to her regularly chosen seat, she merely offers him a winning smile. The man readjusts his sunglasses and grimaces back. Rey sits down next to him and proceeds to make _as much noise as she can_ unpacking her things, relishing the way Kylo winces with every too-loud movement.

Revenge, she decides, is a dish best served noisy.

First group readings, however, are more about getting a feel for one’s fellow cast members than they are for actual tuning; the bustle of Rey’s scores are likely to be, she knows, the loudest she’ll get all morning. Many of the Coruscant cast members had worked together on different productions before – Rey’s worked with most of them, herself, though rarely as peer or prima. Still, socialization and reading at a production’s first practice sets the tone for the rest of the production; the first five minutes of the first practice are said, in some circles, to be the point where a production either comes together or falls apart.

Thus, when the two leads of Coruscant’s _Phantom of the Opera_ greet each other with palpable animosity, their cast mates immediately start to get twitchy. Even Luke, still settling himself up behind his director’s stand, seems to sense that something is off in the room. He looks up from his score and offers Rey a kind smile before turning his attention to his more wayward nephew. He looks between the two of them for a moment, then seems to set the matter aside.

“Alright, everyone,” he calls, bringing the attention of the room back to where it belongs. “Let’s start off with some basic scales, shall we? Better to start blending now, so try and keep everything nice and balanced. Basses, if you’d begin?”

Each section is brought into the fold slowly, until, at last, the room is humming with noise. Rey feels Luke’s eyes land on her as he surveys the room, and she sits straighter in her seat. Next to her, Kylo nearly breaks from his note, falling flat for a moment before pulling himself together. Rey glares at him from the corner of her eye, but keeps her note steady; a victory, she thinks, over her clearly lesser opponent.

She never thought she could make a competition of scales, but Kylo Ren seems hell bent on proving her wrong. Their notes are crystal clear, no dissonance between one another. It’s not until Kylo’s voice breaks out above the others that Luke even bothers to turn their way again. He doesn’t say a word, merely pins his nephew with a look. Once Kylo’s voice is settled, he looks away again.

“Show off,” Rey mutters when the scale comes to an end. She thinks she sees Kylo smirk, but really, she’s doing her best to try and ignore that he’s there.

The practice is, for the most part, straightforward. There is no singing of songs today, only introductions around the room intermingled with more scales. By the time the rehearsal is finished, the energy in the room is buzzing, and everyone is impatient, it seems, to move on to their independent lessons.

“Thank you kindly,” Luke says as he goes to dismiss the cast. “I promise we’ll move on to more exciting things tomorrow. I have complete faith in your skill as a collective, and as individuals. You’re dismissed for the day, though Leia would like me to remind you that your blocking schedules have been posted alongside your practices. Take a look at those before you go do anything else, and remember: we’ll be reading through the score next Monday, so bring a pencil and be prepared for a long session. Rey,” he says, a little more quickly. “Stick around for a moment, won’t you?”

Rey hesitates, then nods her head. She waits until the rest of the cast has filed out of the room before she gathers her things, then moves over to Luke’s side. Finn, still hesitating on the other side of the room, waves as he wanders off, his head bending to better hold a conversation with alto Jessika Pava. Rey watches them go, then hears Luke clear his throat, and turns her attention back to the maestro.

“How are you doing, my girl?” Luke asks as he gathers his notes together.

“Not badly,” Rey shrugs.

“Are you sleeping enough?”

“Oh, please,” Rey snorts. “You know the answer to that.” They’re the same, in some ways, with matching bags under their eyes, though Rey doesn’t have the excuse of work to explain hers away.

“Indeed, I do,” Luke says with a sigh. “Have you tried melatonin? It does wonders, I promise you.”

“I don’t want to get addicted,” Rey admits, stuffing her hands into her back pockets. “I should be able to handle this on my own, anyway, don’t you think?”

“My girl, there is never any shame in accepting help, regardless of its form,” Luke says. “But I didn’t call you down here to talk about your sleeping habits. I have a slight concern about some of the progress I witnessed today.”

“Oh?” Rey tilts her head, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s something of a more personal manner,” Luke says, hesitating for a moment before pressing on. “Something to do with my nephew, specifically.”

Rey doesn’t bother to act like she’s surprised. It must read in her face, because Luke is quick to laugh. “See, that’s it exactly,” he says, waving a hand in her direction. “It seems the two of you have already gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Rey grumbles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t murdered me yet.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s not capable,” Luke says with a smirk. “Not to say that he wouldn’t try, but, my girl, I feel you would give him more than a fair fight.”

Rey feels her chest swell up with pride. She’s too busy trying to control the blush on her face to really hear what Luke says next. “Come again?” she asks, pulling herself back together.

Luke’s expression momentarily dips into something like concern. “I’m going to request a favor,” he says. “It may be a tedious one, but I think you, out of everyone, is most capable of handling it.”

A nervous feeling settles itself deep in Rey’s gut, but she’s in no position to deny her maestro. “Okay, then. What is it?”

Luke sighs. “I’d like you to keep an eye on my nephew,” he says. “Perhaps serve as a counterbalance to his more negative moods. I’m concerned that his…eagerness to prove himself with interfere with cast morale, and with the pressure everyone is already under, it seems detrimental to ply them with more stress. Do you understand?”

Rey blinks, long and slow. “I’m going to need you to clarify,” she says, after a beat. “Do you want me to be obnoxiously cheerful at everyone, generally, or just when he shows up in a bad mood?”

“Neither, exactly,” Luke lets out an awkward laugh. “It’s more that I’m asking you to be patient with him, and to try and temper his negative moods with your more…optimistic ones. Does that make sense?”

Rey hesitates, then nods. She bites her lip and casts her gaze down at her feet before responding. “I’ll do my best,” she says. “But I can’t promise that I won’t lose my temper with him. He’s already made it pretty clear that he doesn’t like me, and while I have great respect for you and for Ms. Organa, I’m not sure I’m in the position to try and ‘fix’ your nephew.”

“My girl, I would far from ask you to perform the impossible,” Luke says. “I only ask that you do your best to tolerate him, and that you try to serve as an example for the rest of the cast.”

Rey thins out her lips, but nods again. “I think I can do that.”

“Good,” Luke says with a nod. “Then that’s all I’ll require of you today.”

“Are you sure?” Rey asks, her tone light even though her stomach is curling inward. “Because I’m sure I could take on a little bit more, if you wanted me to.”

Luke raises an eyebrow, but acknowledges her good humor. “Get to your lesson, silly girl,” he says. “Or I just might take you up on that offer.”

Rey’s quick to scurry from the room, a wayward smile forcing its way onto her lips. She waves to Luke as she ducks into the hall, then keeps her head low as she moves, eager to get on with the rest of her day.

There’s something about his words that don’t sit right in her stomach, but she’s not sure which part it is that’s setting her off. She can see Kylo Ren standing tall in her mind’s eye, and all the image does is serve to make her stomach ache worse.

It’s not that she doesn’t respect Luke as a mentor. It’s not that she’s not excited about this production. It’s the idea that it is now _her_ responsibility to try and counterbalance a man who exists as an almost-literal black hole of enjoyment when she is no more than an inconsequential blip going undetected on his radar. It’s infuriating as much as it is flattering, and the confusion tastes rotten in her mouth.

She’s worked herself into such a state by the time she reaches the practice rooms that she nearly misses Poe’s greeting as she passes him by.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the receptionist calls after her. “What’s gotten you all worked up?”

Rey whirls on him and sees him raise his arms in surrender. “Why is it,” she asks, “that people want _me_ to take charge of that pompous, arrogant, too-tall _asshole_ we have working in our house?”

Poe blinks at her. One corner of his mouth twitches in his effort not to laugh. “Well,” he says, “I’m not really sure. Maybe because you’re seen as level-headed, humble, and perfectly short?”

Rey glares hard enough that she sees him wince, but not hard enough to kill the laughter in his face.

“You’re not responsible for him, you know,” Poe tells her. “We actually know that. But, if what I’ve heard is correct, practices seem like they’re going to be a little –”

“What?” Rey snaps. “Unbearable? Unsuccessful? Abysmal?”

“Difficult,” Poe says. “Rey, seriously, do you want to go talk to Leia? If you think this is going to go badly, I’m sure she’s the one who can do something about it.”

Rey tries to pull herself back, then settles herself with a sigh. “No, I don’t want to talk to Leia,” she says, the roiling of her gut finally slowing. “I just – I hope they’re talk to him about his behavior, and not just to me. I understand that our characters are supposed to balance each other out, but I’m not sure if that’s something I can manage in real life.”

Poe nods his head in understanding.

“I just want to sing,” Rey continues. “That’s all I really wanted to do. I never wanted to play babysitter to some full grown man-child with anger management issues.”

“Hey,” Poe says, leaning over his desk. He claps her on the shoulder and offers her his gentlest smile. “I’m sure everything’s gonna turn out alright. You’re still gonna get to sing, and if the big-headed emo kid can’t get his act together, I’m sure his mother is going to have something to say about it. There’s no way things are gonna go completely to shit; just you wait and see.”

Rey chuckles and feels her soul finally calm. “Thanks, Poe,” she says with a gentle smile. “Can I have the key to room 77, please?”

“Of course you can, sweetheart,” Poe says. He gives her shoulder a squeeze before turning away, then tosses her the keys over his shoulder. “Be sure to sing loudly,” he calls as she walks away. “Someone deleted all of my playlists, and I need something to keep me from losing my mind.”

“I’ll do my best,” Rey calls back. She slips inside the practice room and locks the door behind her, then rests her head against the familiar wood.

She never imagined that achieving _this_ – the thing she wanted _most_ , the chance to prove herself, the chance to be everything her grandfather was – would be easy. She just never imagined that it be so trying, either.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and glances at the time – there’s a text from Finn, but she’s not ready to answer it. There’s an hour left until she has a lesson with Leia, meaning that she has just enough time to warm up and run through some of her repertoire. Rey takes one last deep breath before pushing off the door and setting herself up in front of the practice room mirror.

Her eyes are calm when she meets her reflection’s gaze. It’s reassuring, a hope that maybe, just maybe, things won’t be as rotten as she thinks they’ll be.

Hearing her own voice, alone, after spending the morning in a crowd, is a little strange, but Rey’s quick to adjust. She skimps on her scales in order to move on to the good stuff, then spends the better part of half an hour working her first aria from _Barber_. By the time she glances at the clock again, most of the earlier morning’s practice is far from her mind. She packs up her things and drops off her room keys with Poe, then heads down the busy halls until she reaches Leia’s office.

Leia is waiting for her in the lobby and is talking on her cellphone, turned away from the bulk of the hall as she finishes a rapid fire conversation. Rey waits patiently until her instructor’s finished talking, then clears her throat so that Leia turns and recognizes her presence. Leia waves her inside her office with a sign to wait a moment, then turns towards one of the windows to continue her conversation. Rey ducks inside and takes out her scores, tracing lines of music until her instructor can join her.

“Sorry about that,” Leia says a few moments later. “We’re having some technical difficulties with the stage, and there’s only so many people who I trust to work on it. Do you think you’ll need to warm up again, or should we go ahead and move along?”

“Let’s get to work,” Rey says.

They make their way to Leia’s practice room in relative silence, not quite as content as Rey’s used to, but not overwhelmingly tense. The room seems to have more chairs in it than usual alongside its piano bench, but she doesn’t pay the small fact any mind. It’s not until Leia’s closed the door that Rey realizes she’s been lured into a trap.

“So,” Leia says without any preamble. “I’ve been told that my son is out causing trouble.”

Rey sputters, shocked, and feels the strains of composure she’d gathered in the past hour start to crumble. “I don’t know the full extent of it,” she admits at once. “But if the mood of the first practice indicates anything, he doesn’t look like he wants to be involved in the production at all.”

Leia sighs. “That doesn’t surprise me,” she says, tugging on a loose strand of grey hair. “And I suppose Luke’s asked you to try and counter that?”

Rey hesitates, then allows herself to nod.

“Of course,” Leia mutters. “I love my brother dearly; really, I do, but he has a terrible tendency to try and fix things without directly addressing the conflict at hand.”

“That…seems like him,” Rey says. “Though I’m not really sure if I can blame him for that.”

Leia snorts. “He thinks conflict disrupts the creative process,” she says in a perfect stage-whisper. “We’ve disagreed about that for years. In any case, the way I see it, we have a couple of options if we want to move forward. I can reassign either your or my son to a different role –”

“Hold on,” Rey says. Leia stops and, for a moment, looks close to amused. “I’m not giving up this role,” Rey continues. Her tone is fierce and bright in the small confines of the practice room, and it takes her a moment to remember who it is she’s speaking to. Then, and only then, does she remember to duck her head. “I’ve wanted a role like this for a really long time,” she continues. “And to give it up now just because of a casting conflict seems like I’d be throwing an opportunity away.”

When she glances up again, it’s to see Leia smiling. “I know, dear,” her mentor says. “And, even with all of his thick headedness, I believe my son will feel the same. That is what leads me into option two.”

As if cued, there’s a knock on her door. Rey looks over and sees Kylo Ren pushing his way into the practice room, looming like a creature out of her nightmares. He’s abandoned his sunglasses, but his eyes are bloodshot and his hands are shaking. He stops when he sees her, and his mouth curls into a distressed sneer.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m in the middle of a lesson,” Rey snarls. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Leia positions herself between the two of them, and while she’s shorter than them both, it’s enough to make them stop. Rey looks down at her mentor and realizes, abruptly, that she’s taken several steps forward; she’s nearly running into Leia’s left shoulder. Kylo, too, is now towering over his mother, his chest curved to avoid running her over.

“You two are going to sit down and behave like adults, or we’re not going to get anywhere,” Leia commands. “We’re going to have a mature conversation about how the two of you are going to approach this upcoming production. If you don’t feel inclined to sit and listen –” she turns and looks at her son. “– then I _will_ find someone to replace you. Do I make myself clear?”

Neither one of them wants to be the first to move. It’s Rey who concedes first. She backs away from Leia slowly, uncurling her fists and sitting herself down in one of Leia’s many chairs. Kylo narrows his eyes at her, but does not hesitate to follow suit. He throws himself down in a hard plastic chair and crosses his arms over his chest, then settles his gaze at a spot between Rey and his mother.

“There we go,” Leia says with a sigh. “Isn’t that much better?”

“No,” both performers grumble. Neither look up quickly enough to a see amusement flicker across Leia’s face, both of them too busy staring at their shoes. She proceeds to ignore both of them and takes a seat on the piano bench like the queen that she is.

“So,” she says, settling her hands in her laps. “Why don’t we start by airing our grievances? Kylo, I’m sure that you have more than a few.”

Rey bristles as Kylo Ren snorts. “She’s not ready to sing a role of this size,” he says, launching in without so much as a glance her direction. “She hasn’t had enough time to prepare, and she’s going to let her emotions rule her performance. If we’re lucky, we’ll get subpar reviews, and she’ll get a mention in _Stargate_ , at best. If you’d given the role to someone like Phasma, we’d be much better off.”

“That’s not for you to determine,” his mother replies smoothly. “But that’s enough for a moment. Rey, what do you have to say in response?”

Rey gathers herself up, sucking in a deep breath before meeting Kylo’s eye. “I don’t know why I should bother trying to preserve your feelings when you’ve made your distaste of mine so apparent,” she spits. “But I’ll try to refrain from calling you all the names you deserve. Needless to say, I think you’re an arrogant, black hearted _tool_ who can barely carry a tune and can’t hold his liquor.” Her last barb hits true, it seems; Kylo winces, and his trademark snarky smile seems to slip. Leia looks between the two of them as though this is new information, but does not pursue the matter.

“Your tendency to discredit any artist you’ve not performed with before proceeds you,” Rey continues, though she’s fighting to keep her voice steady. “While I can admire your concern for the state of the house – or, at least, the concern you _imply_ – I can soundly say that your bias is impeding your judgement.”

Kylo snarls and lunges forward, only to be stopped by his mother’s wary hand. She levels him with a glare until he sinks back in his seat, though she cannot stop the gnashing of his teeth.

“Alright,” Leia says, sounding almost out of breath. “Now that that’s out in the air, we can work to move past it.”

Despite themselves, the two artists share incredulous looks. Leia snorts at the both of them, then tugs again on a stray strand of her hair. “I will not be serving as your therapist over the next four months,” she continues. “So I will say that this is the only time I will mediate one of your disagreements. It was not my intention to bring you here to argue; it was my intention to bring you here to sing.”

Another incredulous look is exchanged.

“What?” Rey sputters.

Leia raises an eyebrow as she looks to her protégé. “You are performers, are you not?” she asks, her tone full of mock patience. “You make your careers by singing? You’re scheduled to perform in a musical opposite each other on said musical’s twenty fifth anniversary? Did you assume that you could make it through the next several months and then perform without interacting with one another?”

The barrage of questions is enough to make both performers look away.

“What are we singing?” Rey asks, after an extended moment of silence.

“‘Point of No Return’, if you please.” Leia readjusts herself on the piano, turning her back on her wayward performers. Rey is the first to stand from her seat, reaching for the score that she’s left on the music stand. Kylo moves after her, his own score making its way into his hand. They refuse to look at one another as they prepare, eyes kept on Leia or on the practice room walls.

“I’ll give you two bars, shall I?” Leia asks, her fingers dancing over the piano keys.

“Give me a minute,” Kylo grumbles. It’s the softest Rey thinks she’s ever heard his voice, and for a moment, she’s not sure what to make of it. She stares at him until he looks her way, then goes back to trying to ignore him. She leans back against the wall while Kylo centers himself in the practice room, then closes her eyes as he begins.

There’s a warm quality to the tone of his voice that surprises her, now that they’re alone in a room together. It’s different when they’re not trying to compete, and the stretch of his voice and the quality of his notes – she can see why his mother was so eager to welcome him into the house. For one brief moment, Rey can’t find it in herself to blame her. She keeps her face a neutral mask as he continues, despite the new impression, determined not to let any of her surprise show.

He runs scales for a scant two minutes before his voice fades away. Rey opens her eyes at last and finds him staring at him mother and refusing to look her way.

“Are you ready?” Leia asks.

“Ready.” Kylo nods.

Leia turns to Rey. Rey pushes herself off the wall and comes to stand next to Kylo, careful to keep a reasonable distance between the two of them. She refuses to meet his gaze and instead focuses on her score.

“I don’t think we’ll need too much movement yet, so don’t do anything that doesn’t feel natural,” Leia says. “Luke and I are still working out the basics of the blocking, so if you do move, we may steal it for later. Otherwise, just focus on the notes and sing.” With that, she looks back at her piano. “Two bars, and then you begin.”

The music takes. Rey finds her breath, takes another glance at her sheet music, and listens as Kylo begins.

Despite Leia’s comment, she allows herself small movements as he works his way through his verse. She adds a coy look here, a hand wave there, and relishes in watching the uncontrolled expressions that pass over his face. She surprises him as she lets her hand brush his, then startles herself when he reaches out and weaves their fingers together. It’s only when he hesitates that she realizes it’s her turn to come in. 

Rey floats through her verse. It’s a passionate song, and her voice bites with the false desire and hints of fear that she knows Christine would be unable to hide. Kylo gives what he gets as their voices intertwine. Rey nearly misses a note as he pushes his music stand aside, coming to stand in front of her like an angry, towering god. She has to crane her head to look up at him, but then his hand is circling her wrist and she’s fighting back, the fear in her voice more obvious as the song comes to its inevitable conclusion.

There’s a fumbled note from the piano, but neither one of them notices.

When the song ends, both of them are struggling to breath, though Rey’s not sure if it’s due to exertion or to the tension that fills the air. Her hand is hovering next to Kylo’s face, ready to tear away the mask he will eventually wear, while his is hesitating just above her hip. For a moment, the two of them are frozen.

Leia coughs. They break apart. Rey takes a hurried step back and knocks into a music stand, while Kylo makes a point of staring at his feet. The coughing turns into gentle laughter. Both singers look to Leia and find her watching them with fondness in her eyes.

“Do you understand why I chose you both know?” she asks. “Why I’d prefer not to recast either of you?”

Rey and Kylo exchange a hurried glance. Rey wills herself to speak, to say something remotely derogatory, but the energy she can find only allows her to nod. To her relief, Kylo looks as lost as she does. He looks between her and his mother, then settles his gaze on the ground.

“I –” he begins, then seems to shake himself. “I’m not going to apologize.”

And just like that, the spell is broken. Rey snorts in reply. “I would be shocked if you did.”

Kylo surprises her again; he laughs, a short, bark-like thing. Rey stares at him until Leia clears her throat.

“Rey, I think your lesson is done for today,” she says. “Run through your introductory aria again before you go to dinner. Last time I listened to it your notes were a little loose.”

Rey nods. She gathers up her music without looking at her mentor or Kylo, trying not to listen as Leia’s voice fills the room. She offers her mentor a parting nod, and then she flees.

She does as Leia instructs, idly texting Finn while she’s making her way to the general practice rooms. It’s only when she has to respell “terrified” three or four times that she realizes her hands are shaking. Rey takes a deep breath, then sets her phone aside. She finishes her practice in record time, then meets Finn on the front steps of the Coruscant, where he takes her hands and holds them between his own.

“Was it that bad?” he asks.

“It wasn’t bad,” Rey says, not meeting his eye. “That’s the problem. It wasn’t bad at all.”

Finn doesn’t ask any more questions. He wraps his arm around Rey’s shoulders, instead, and offers to walk her home.

The mood lightens, as they go. They stop in at a corner grocery store and buy a frozen pizza, then pass it back and forth until they reach Rey’s apartment. They collapse on the couch while it bakes, Rey’s feet in Finn’s lap while she listens to him talk about his day.

“I can’t wait to start having rehearsals with you,” he tells her. “We ran part of the directors’ song from the first act today, and let me tell you: Snaps and Ello? Hilarious. Took me five minutes just to stop laughing.”

“That’s no surprise,” Rey says with a grin. “You laugh at everything, though, so I’m not sure that’s saying much.”

“Not the point,” Finn says. “It’s nice to work with people who have a sense of humor. They sort of balance out the doom and gloom of the rest of it, you know?”

Rey hums, but doesn’t answer. They take the pizza out of the oven a few minutes later and cut it to pieces before retaking their spots on the couch.

“So,” Finn says through a bite of pepperoni. “About Voldemort.”

Rey groans and proceeds to stuff her mouth with pizza.

Finn looks like he wants to laugh at her, but he resists and rolls his eyes at her, instead. “How’d you end up practicing with him, anyway?” he asks. “I thought we were gonna take on the Big Bad together?”

“I did, too,” Rey says, though her mouth is still full of food. “But Leia sprung him on me during our practice today, and I didn’t have a choice.”

Finn almost looks amused. “And he turned out to be better than you expected, didn’t he?”

It’s Rey’s turn to roll her eyes. “Don’t say it like that,” she grumbles. “Yeah, okay, he’s good. Big deal. He’s still the biggest ass I’ve ever seen.”

Finn hums, but says nothing. He licks grease and cheese off of his fingers. “I’d be a little nervous if he wasn’t,” he admits as he reaches for another slice. “The tension in group practice today was…something.”

“That’s putting it nicely,” Rey mutters. “He’s got a good voice, he really does, but he’s just such as pain to work with.”

“Then that’s your solution,” Finn says.

Rey raises an eyebrow and waits for him to continue.

“Just work with him when he’s not talking.”

She throws one of her pillows at him and laughs as he tries to dodge. She curls her feet beneath her and tucks herself into the corner, cuddling her remaining pillow to her chest.

“You’re not performing tonight, right?” she asks, her voice interspersed with a need to sleep.

“I’m not,” Finn says, setting his pizza down with a nod. “You wanna take a nap, peanut?”

Rey nods, then lets her eyes drift shut. “I perform _Barber_ for the first time on Friday,” she says, holding her pillow close. “Naps are going to be hard to come by for a while.”

“Isn’t that a shame?” The couch shifts, and Rey feels Finn press his lips against her forehead. “I’ll wake you up in an hour or so, alright? But I’m eating the rest of your pizza.”

“That’s fine,” Rey mutters. She hears Finn chuckle, then gives herself over to the blissful grasp of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *grasps into lack of canon material* What. Is. Luke's. Adult. Voice. Like?
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	5. Chapter 04

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are cookies (and more arguments).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely feedback. This piece is a delight to write, anyway - I'm a bit of a theatre rat - but hearing your feedback and the parts that you love makes it even better. I'm so delighted that it's going over well! XOXO

Friday comes and leaves a trail of awkward practices and too-full schedules in its wake. Rey finds herself in her dressing room, putting on her costume for _Barber,_ without entirely realizing how she got there. The reflection that looks back at her in the mirror looks tired, but she applies a heavy layer of stage makeup and starts to look alive – if not vaguely exaggerated.

Someone knocks on her door and gives her a ten minute warning call.

Rey reaches for her phone and reads a brief text from Finn. He’s out on a date tonight and not in her audience, but he’s sent her a picture of flowers and a “Good luck!” all the same. She sends him back a smiley face before returning her thoughts to the stage.

 _The Barber of Seville_ is an Italian piece following the comical love affair of Lindoro – or, rather, Duke Almaviva – and the young woman Rosina as they try to evade the scheming wiles of Rosina’s caregiver, Bartolo. The most famous character of the opera, the barber Figaro, spends his time on stage assisting Lindoro and playing tricks on Bartolo, all in the name, of course, of innocent love.

It’s not one of Rey’s favorite operas, but she appreciates the tone of it. The white dress she wears to introduce Rosina makes her look twelve years old – appropriate, she supposes, for the character’s written age, but it itches and makes her feel nervous.

There’s another knock on her door: she has five minutes until stage.

This is not her first time playing Rosina. Rey puts the finishing touches on her makeup and looks at herself one last time in the mirror, mentally comparing herself to the version of her who premiered the role when it last showed three years ago. Not quite satisfied, but running out of time, she’s forced to turn away.

She makes her way through the darkened back stage and up a flight of temporary steps that leads her into the house of Bartolo. She can hear the audience chatter and the stirrings of the orchestra, and it warms her soul. The itching of her dress seems part of her character, now, less a mark of immaturity and more one of pride. Rey straightens its collar and hears the orchestra start to tune. She takes a deep breath, thinks of sawdust and darkness, and waits for the opera to begin.

When she leaves the stage that night, bowing to generous applause, it’s in her itchy dress but with a smile in her heart. Rey makes her way back to her dressing room, clapping her cast mates on the back and grinning, grinning because she remembers that she loves her job and not everything is struggles with characters and uncomfortable duet partners. She shimmies out of the dress and takes it back to the costume department herself instead of leaving it for someone to come and collect. Then, as quietly as she can, she makes her way through the back halls and out into the Coruscant lobby.

The lights, by the time she’s made her escape, are dim. Rey keeps to the shadows as she moves, watching the last of the audience trickle out of the theater. She settles herself against one of the lobby’s grand columns and watches as they make their way down the front steps, out to their cars, laughing with their family and friends as they disappear into the night.

There’s a cough from behind her. Rey glances back and sees Rebecca Phasma hovering a few feet away.

“What are you still doing here?” Rey asks.

“I wanted to watch the performance,” Phasma replies. “What about you?”

Rey hesitates, then shrugs. “I didn’t feel like going home yet.”

Phasma takes a step forward, then comes to join Rey in leaning against the pillar. For a moment, there is silence. Then, Phasma clears her throat. “You were good, Kenobi,” she says, making a show of inspecting her nails.

Rey almost wants to laugh; the air around them is so awkward, but she feels it’s well intended. “Thank you,” she says, offering Phasma a smile. Phasma responds in kind, though it’s a dog-like smile Rey gets in return; a smile that looks uncomfortable, no matter its intent.

They fall into another moment of silence. Then, Phasma huffs. “There’s a place by my apartment that does late night cookie baking,” she says. “They serve wine while you wait. Let’s go and have a talk.”

Rey’s eyebrow creeps upward, but she nods and pushes away from the pillar. “Is something wrong?” she asks as she waits for Phasma to join her.

Phasma shakes her head. “Not with me,” she says, her tone light. “And not with you, either. It’s just something we should talk about.”

Rey hesitates, then shrugs. “Alright,” she says, heading towards the door. “Who can say no to cookies, anyway?”

Phasma chuckles again, and the noise echoes through the lobby. The two women walk down the Coruscant’s front steps together, then climb into Phasma’s car and drive into the night.

They don’t talk much on the ride to the shop, nor once they’re inside. It’s a companionable silence, both of them floating on some sleeplessness that’s inherent to working in the theater. Rey shifts, crossing and recrossing her legs as she sits waiting at one of the shop tables, watching Phasma as she orders their food. When the blonde returns, it’s with two glasses of wine and a furrow in her brow.

“Thank you,” Rey murmurs, taking her glass in hand. Phasma nods, but says nothing. The companionable silence turns sour, and Rey shifts her crossed legs again. “How was your practice today?” she asks before taking a sip of wine. She can’t tell if Phasma appreciates the conversation or not, but the other woman doesn’t hesitate before she replies.

“It could have been worse, I suppose,” she admits. “Compared to the First Order, it’s a mess, but that’s more a fault in the directing than it is the talent of the performers.”

Rey’s eyebrow twitches upward, and her mouth curls into a frown.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Phasma adds, then takes a sip of wine.

“What was it like at the First Order, then?” Rey sniffs.

Phasma laughs, but it’s not a friendly thing. “A kinder person would call it intense,” she says. “But it was more than that. It was unrealistically difficult to work with anybody, especially the director.”

“Walter Snoke,” Rey says softly.

“Yes,” Phasma sighs. “Snoke had high expectations for everyone, but his expectations for his leads were – demanding, to say the least. I worked for him for seven years, and I don’t think I once saw him content.” She pauses. “He was hardest on Kylo, I think. Hux will argue that, but Hux thinks there’s always suffering in drama.”

“Seems he’s working in the right profession,” Rey says around her glass of wine. To her relief, she hears Phasma chuckle. “But how was it worse for Kylo?” she continues. “I mean, if it was bad for you, how much worse could it get?”

Phasma hesitates, and some of the harshness goes out of her tone. “Kylo Ren, great bastard that he is, was something of a special case, according to Snoke. Rumors would have you think that Snoke just wanted Kylo to reach his full potential, and there’s some truth to those.” She shrugs. “But there are quieter rumors still. Did you ever hear that Anakin Skywalker snubbed the First Order when he was still performing?”

“What?”

“From what I’ve found, it’s a true fact.” Phasma takes another sip of her wine. “Anakin Skywalker performed everywhere, before and after his run as ‘Darth Vader’, but he never came to the First Order. Snoke _hated_ him for that. It was a ‘if Palpatine can get him, than I can, too!’ sort of thing. But it never happened. Then comes Kylo, desperate to break out from beneath his mother’s shadow, and Snoke snatches him up. I think he’d hoped to turn Kylo into his personal performer, but things never progressed that far.”

“That’s,” Rey hesitates, “that’s really bizarre.”

“You’re being kind,” Phasma snorts.

Their cookies arrive in the silence that follows, a plateful, all warm and melted and soft. Neither of the women talk while they eat, though Phasma orders another glass of wine for them both. After that, the conversation is light: more about practice, a few stories about Rey’s grandfather. Rey discovers that Phasma keeps a legion of white Persian cats, the oldest of whom is turning nineteen in a month and a half’s time. “They’re waiting for me when I come home,” Phasma says, rolling her eyes. “I love them, I really do, but have you ever tried to get cat hair off of your clothes? It’s impossible; it always comes back.”

Rey doesn’t know what else to do but laugh. Cookie crumbs threaten to fly from her mouth, but she swallows them down, and her laughter turns to choking. Phasma reaches across the table and slams her on the back a few times, dislodging any wayward cookies, but Rey comes away from the experience feeling like she’s had her back broken.

“We should do this again sometime,” she hears herself say, in the middle of rubbing her back and finishing the last cookie.

“If you keep staying late after performances, I think we’ll have to,” Phasma smiles. “Let me drive you home. You look like you could sleep for a year.”

“I _need_ to sleep for a year,” Rey sighs. “But that won’t happen for a long time.”

Phasma nods, as if in understanding, then rises from her seat. With the cookies in their belly to sop up any remaining alcohol, both women decide that it’s okay for them to drive home.

Phasma drops her off with no more than a “see you Monday”, but there’s something genuine to it that makes Rey smile. She waves as Phasma’s car disappears around the block, then goes stumbling up the steps of her apartment. She opens the door and makes her way over to her couch, not bothering to move for the bedroom. Sleep tugs at her, hard and fast, and she’s almost asleep before her head even hits the cushions.

_*_

Monday comes and finds Rey with a cup of coffee cradled against her chest while she tries to find a place to sit at the Coruscant’s reading table. Luke is already seated at the table’s head, or it’s best equivalent. Rey wants to make a joke about King Arthur and magical hermits, but it’s too early; her sense of humor only kicks into gear once she’s drank her coffee.

She’d be lying if she said she was looking forward to the musical read through, but she’d also be lying if she said she was dreading it. The read throughs she’s attended for her operas are usually bearable, but they tend to linger over pronunciation and inflection and really, it all blends together after a while. She understands the need for it, though. For _Phantom of the Opera_ , it feels like more of an ice breaker exercise. But maybe that’s her lack of sleep talking.

“Damn, girl,” Finn says as he slides into the seat next to her. “You look terrible.”

“And that makes me feel so much better, thanks,” Rey grumbles. “Do you use that line on everyone, or am I just lucky?”

It’s too sarcastic to be funny, but Finn chuckles, anyway. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, nudging her with her shoulder. “But you’re lovely, as always. Have you been having trouble sleeping?”

“Nice segue.” Rey goes to continue, but a movement in the doorway catches her eye. Kylo Ren strolls into the reading room, a coffee cup in one hand and his score in the other. He looks – relaxed, there’s no other word for it, and it’s out of character enough that Rey’s skin starts to crawl. Her jaw snaps shut, leaving Finn staring at her and waiting for a response that doesn’t come. He follows her gaze a moment later and lets out a short huff.

“Hey,” he says, careful to keep his voice low. “We talked about this, remember?”

“We said that if I wanted to get along with him, he wasn’t allowed to talk,” Rey scowled. “And now I have to listen to him talk _for hours_.”

“You and me both,” Finn says with a nod. “But seriously: cut the guy some slack. It’s a Monday. You can get back to chewing his ass later.”

Rey crosses her arms with a huff and takes a pointed sip of her coffee. Finn waits until she’s swallowed to swipe it from her, then takes a long sip of his own. When he winces a moment later, Rey bursts into laughter.

“What did you have them put in this?!” Finn demands.

“It’s a triple shot.”

“And what, you stopped believing in sugar?!”

Rey’s laugh, to an outsider, is crystal clear and beautiful. Finn willingly surrenders her coffee to her and wrinkles his nose in playful disgust. They argue gently as the rest of the cast files in. Rey catches Phasma’s eye as the blonde walks into the room and salutes her with her cup. Phasma nods back, then takes to the seat across the table from her. Armitage Hux is on her at once, so Rey turns her attention back to Finn.

Leia walks into the room near to nine-o-clock and takes her seat next to her brother. Luke’s throat clearing is quiet, but it’s enough to turn the noise of the room into respectful silence.

“Thank you all for coming today and indulging me,” Luke says. “I’m hoping that, by talking through the whole of the piece, we’ll be able to get a feel for what areas need attention more than others. There will be a break towards ten thirty, but I believe that, if we focus, we’ll all be out of here by noon.”

There’s an optimistic whoop from across the table; Rey turns and sees Snaps throwing her mentor a broad grin.

“Thank you, Mr. Wexley,” Luke says gravely. “Now, Mr. Atsy, Mr. Trooper, Leia: if you’d kindly lead us in?”

The room fills with the sound of rustling paper. The man playing the auctioneer clears his throat, then calls out the opening lines of the musical. Rey settles back in her seat and listens as the introduction plays itself out.

It’s not the most entertaining three hours she’s ever spent working, but it turns out to be more enjoyable than she’d expected. Finn makes her laugh more than once with his over-the-top Raoul (Luke makes a point of telling him to tone it down, and while Finn does as he’s told, he’s also got a keen sense for when audience attention is likely to waver). She does her best to tap in to the innocence that embodies Christine, but her interactions with Kylo, even when just speaking, are…loaded. They remain civil, and they don’t break from character, but there’s an energy burning beneath her skin that refuses – refuses – to let her fall into some status beneath him.

“Hold on, hold on,” Luke says, as one of their more poignant interactions comes to an end. “I want you two to do that again.”

“Was something wrong?” Rey asks.

“Not in so many words,” Luke replies. “But I believe we’re on the edge of something here. Do it again and let me hear you properly.”

Rey and Kylo exchange a glance, then do as they’re instructed.

Without music, ‘Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again’ comes off as a ragged plea from Christine as she stands before her father’s grave, begging to know why he’s left her with a guardian so terrible, yet so beautiful. The Phantom – or perhaps he’s Eric, right now, just a man (albeit one loitering in a graveyard) – hears her plea. He feels no guilt for what he’s done; it is through him that she has become a talent, through _him_ that she’s succeeded. It also through him, however, that she’s found a suitor, and for this, Eric hates himself. He hates Raoul, too, and wants to hate Christine so badly it hurts him, but he can’t – he can’t hate his student, and he can’t hate the woman he’s grown to –

Kylo cuts off, mid-word, and directs a cold gaze towards his uncle. “Love?” he scowls. “The Phantom’s fascination with Christine has been written more as obsession over the years, not as love.”

Luke and Leia exchange a pointed glance. “That is one interpretation, yes,” Luke says, a moment later. “I suppose you’d prefer to play it off as obsession, then, without a root in love?”

There’s a quiet sigh from the rest of the cast. Rey sees Snap roll his eyes as he leans back in his seat; even Leia, professional as she is, looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. For a moment, Rey envies all of them. She’s the one who has to pay attention to this next exchange, so they can save their eye rolls for someone else.

“It would make more sense,” Kylo says, crossing his arms over his chest. “The idea he has of her in his head contradicts the woman he sees in real life, and he has more belief in one than he does the other.”

“And that ideal has no basis in romantic feeling?”

“Well, no,” Kylo sputters. “It’s delusion.”

“But delusion does not simply pluck itself out of the ground.” Rey almost groans when she sees the twinkle in Luke’s eye. “It could arguably be based in lust,” he concedes. “But Rey, what are your thoughts on the matter?”

Rey freezes as both men switch their gaze to her. Luke, as always, looks benevolently calm. Kylo looks like he wants to set her on fire. Rey forces herself to swallow, then leans forward and speaks.

“From my perspective,” she begins, a tentative peace offering to both men. “The Phantom’s grown up apart from everything kind in the world. He’s been abused, beat down, and forced to hide who he really is in order to find any measure of success.”

Quiet sounds of agreement echo through the room, and for a moment, Kylo’s death stare seems to lighten.

“That said,” Rey continues. “I think the way he would interpret worldly kindnesses, love or otherwise, would have to be a little twisted. He’s dedication to Christine may be based out of love, yes, but it’s not going to be the kind of love that the average person will be comfortable with, or will even be able to identify.”

More noises of agreement. Rey risks a glance at Kylo and sees him narrow his eyes. He shifts in his seat, his crosses arms pressing closer to his chest. She looks away after a moment and focuses on Luke, instead.

“That’s a fair point,” Luke nods.

“I just want to add, though,” Rey says, her voice coming out in a rush. “That it’s not my position to tell anybody how to play their role. If you want to interpret this scene differently,” she spares another glance for Kylo. “Then I can adjust my acting accordingly.”

There is more bite to her tone than she means for there to be, but it’s too late to take it back. Kylo looks ready to snarl, but does nothing as the room’s attention swings over to him. He does not crack under the weight of their gazes, only sits taller in his chair and pins Rey with a glower. She stares back at him, nervous but unmoving, as the room falls silent.

“Let’s run the scene again,” Luke says, his voice cutting through the tension. “They’re both interesting ideas that deserve exploration, but now is not the time. Perhaps we’ll save it for a one-on-one practice?”

“That sounds fine to me.”

“Agreed.”

Kylo looks down at his score, then over to his uncle. Something passes between them, but Rey is uncertain of exactly what.

Luke moves back in his score, and they start all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who were in band/choir/orchestra, and perhaps even for those of you who weren't: when the director says "okay, do that one more time", the director is lying.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	6. Chapter 05

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is progress (sort of).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, folks. It's been a hard week so far, but your comments continue to help me make it through. I know a lot of you may be struggling with work, finals, etc., but if my story about these two antagonizing each other can make your day a little better, then I'm doing my job.
> 
> XOXO

The rest of the reading goes as smoothly as it can. The cast is dismissed for lunch with a relief that is almost palpable. Rey waits for Finn to gather his things, tucking her score away. Her body aches with the need to stretch.

“Do you want to go out somewhere?” she asks. “I have to get out of this building, or I’m going to lose my mind.”

“I hear you,” Finn chuckles. “You wanna do the diner, or should we trying something different?”

They don’t so much leave the theater as they do flee it. Rey sees Leia stalking out of the rehearsal room as she and Finn are sneaking out the back doors and ducks her head, giggling.

They hold hands as they walk down the city streets, talking about nothing until the diner comes into view. Rey and the line cook exchange tired grins as she and Finn take their seats at the bar top. She lets Finn order for her while she rests her head on her arms, closing her eyes and willing her body to rejuvenate.

“Poor thing,” Finn teases, once the line cook has walked away. “Was my Raoul too overwhelming, peanut? Have I made you swoon already?”

“Shut up.” Rey swats at his arm. “You’re such a nuisance.”

“You love it,” Finn grins. “But riddle me this: are we a better Christine and Raoul than Han and Leia, or do you think we need more practice?”

“I think we need a lot more practice, you goof,” Rey laughs. “We haven’t even sang together yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Finn says with a shrug. “I know us. We’re going to be epic.”

They bicker until their chili arrives, and then giggle over warm sandwiches. Rey spares the clock a glance when she can, but the conversation is good and the food warms her belly. She’s almost forgotten the stress of the morning by the time their lunch break comes to an end.

She and Finn walk back to the Coruscant fuller than they left, laughing as they dodge around other commuters to race changing traffic lights. The theater is just coming into view, and they’re both doubled over and panting, when Finn’s phone starts to ring.

“Give me a second,” he wheezes, fishing it out of his pocket. Rey leans back against a building she doesn’t recognize and grins at him as he goes to answer. She can see the new banners hanging from the Coruscant, and the chill they give her only worsens the cold in the air. The Phantom’s white mask sits between the two center columns, stark against the black that rests behind it.

The news about the performance has already dropped, which meant the cast list has gone live, as well. Rey tries not to grimace and turned her attention back to Finn, who is now pacing along with sidewalk.

“What do you mean?”

Rey blinks, shocked by the transformation of Finn’s face. His smile has died, and he’s all but clutching his phone to his ear.

“Sidon, I don’t understand.”

Rey is at his side at once, her footsteps heavy on the pavement. Finn turns away from her, his nose crinkling as his eyes water.

“Oh, of course. Yeah, now I get it. You didn’t have the balls to do this in person, did you?”

The bite in his voice makes Rey wince. She’s not sure if she should try to comfort him or not, but he’s shaking, and she has no choice but to follow him as he storms down the sidewalk.

“Oh, I see,” he says with a final, heartbroken chuckle. “You just didn’t have the respect. Get your things out of my apartment, Sidon. I’ll deal with you when my day is done.”

Finn hangs up after that, slamming his phone shut with enough force to crack it. He turns to Rey, then to the theater, then lets out a laugh that sounds like a sob.

Rey doesn’t wait; she wraps her arms around him and lets him crumple. They sink to the pavement together, Finn’s head cradled into the crook of Rey’s shoulder.

“He’s not worth you,” she whispers, petting his hair. “Finn, I’m so sorry.”

She can’t make out his words between his sobs, but he curls closer. Rey glances towards the theater, then back at her friend. She tightens her grip around his shoulders and looks up and down the street. The other performers on break should be returning soon; if she’s lucky, she can get someone to tell Leia that she’s going to be late.

“I can’t believe him,” Finn snarls, and it’s terrifying through his tears. “Not even – not even in person! What kind of man _does_ that?!”

“An imbecile,” Rey says. “A coward.”

Someone appears from around a corner, a tall figure dressed in black. Rey looks up, catches her breath, then turns her focus back to Finn.

“We’re going to get you to go home, okay?” she murmurs. “I’m going to finish here, and then I’m going to come over, and we’re going to get roaring drunk. You understand?”

“I don’t wanna get drunk,” Finn whimpers. “I wanna – I wanna do a lot of things, really,” he says, his humor darkened by his tears. “But I really just don’t wanna hurt.”

“I know, peanut,” Rey says, gathering him closer. The dark figure has moved closer. Rey lifts her head and meets Kylo Ren’s eye.

He slows as he approaches them, his head tilted in put-off confusion. He winces when Rey looks at him, but he doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of her.

“I need a favor,” Rey tells him. Her voice is strong, or rather, she wants it to be - it cracks and makes her sound like she’s been crying, too.

Kylo stares at her without saying a word. He glances at Finn, wrapped up in her arms and shaking like a child. “What’s happened?” he asks.

“An asshole happened,” Rey bites. “I need you to tell Leia that I’m going to be late to our meeting, and that Finn’s out for the rest of the day.”

Kylo moves his gaze back to her. For one moment – one bleeding moment – Rey thinks he’s going to refuse her. She wouldn’t put it past him. But the moment passes, and he seems to wilt. “Okay.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but it seems to catch in his throat. He turns away and leaves the two of them there. Rey watches him go, then returns her attention to Finn. His crying as softened, but his face is still wrought with heartbreak.

Leia comes out onto the steps a few minutes later, with Kylo just behind. She doesn’t hesitate to sink down beside her two students, though it takes her a moment.

“What’s happened?” she asks, her voice stern yet soft.

“His boyfriend broke up with him,” Rey tells her. “Over the phone. Like an _asshole_.” She spits the last word and lets it die at her mentor’s feet, then remembers who it is she’s talking to. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Leia tells her. She focuses her attention on Finn, reaching out and letting her hand fall onto his shoulder. “Finn,” she says. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Finn manages, his voice rumbly and breaking. “I will be, I promise. I just – I need a bit.”

“You can have a day,” Leia says. “I’m going to send you home so you can get yourself in order. You’ve done all the work you needed to today.”

“I’ll be fine,” Finn repeats, his voice a little steadier. “Anyway, he’s probably over at my apartment right now getting his things out like I told him to. I’m not really sure I want to see him.”

Leia and Rey exchange a glance. “I won’t send you home alone, then,” Leia says, and then she turns to her son. Kylo stiffens, several feet away.

“Go get Poe Dameron, please,” his mother tells him. “I would like the two of you to go with Mr. Trooper on his way home.”

The laugh Finn lets out sounds desperate, part amused and part tragic. “You really don’t need to do that.”

“Why send me?” Kylo asks, his voice no more than a rumble.

“Because you’re scary,” his mother says. Her tone brokers no argument. “The young man who did this deserves to feel a little fear.”

If Rey didn’t know any better (but then again, maybe she doesn’t), she’d think Kylo looks a little proud. “She has a point, you know,” she adds, killing Kylo’s smile.

The man huffs, then rolls his eyes. “You go get Dameron,” he says, casting his gaze out across the city skyline. “I’ll stay here until you’re done.”

Rey nearly refuses, but the warmth has gone out of his eyes. She’s asked what she can for today, it seems. “Okay.” She’s slow in unwinding herself from Finn, squeezing his hand and pressing a kiss to his cheek. She stays in front of him for a moment, wiping his tears away with her hand. “We’re here for you,” she murmurs, kissing him again. “We’ll make sure you’re alright.”

Finn blinks at her and tries for a smile, but it’s watery, at best. Rey forces herself to turn away and to walk towards the steps. She pauses for only a moment, first to tell Leia that she’ll wait in her office, and second to look to Kylo. She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. Then:

“Thank you.”

She takes the steps two at a time in order to avoid looking at his face. There’s leverage in what she’s just given him, but in a way, she feels like she’s settled a debt: a kindness for a kindness. That said, she still doesn’t want to look him in the face.

Poe looks concerned when she comes to find him, though she doesn’t know if it’s because he knows or because of the look on her face. He goes running when she sends him away, shouting for a replacement as he disappears down the hall.

Rey stares after him and nearly smiles, then heads for Leia’s office.

The day seems heavier, now, and there’s a weariness in her bones that wasn’t there before. Rey doesn’t want to think, so she moves into Leia’s practice room. Senior accompanist Tres Pio is waiting at the piano, his gold-ringed fingers running over the bars in senseless melody.

“Miss Kenobi!” he looks up as she pushes her way into the room. “Tell me, where is Ms. Organa?”

“She’ll be here in a little while,” Rey says. “Would you mind helping me with my warm ups?”

Tres Pio looks concerned, but does not hesitate before replying. “Not at all, Miss Kenobi.”

The practice room air is warm in her lungs, a relief against the winter chill. Rey glides through her warm ups with an air that’s almost thoughtless; when her throat feels loose enough, she fishes out her scores.

She glances over _Barber_ and almost chooses it for its familiarity, but then sets it aside. _Phantom_ finds its place on her music stand, its pages already filling with her crisp pencil marks.

“Can we look at ‘Wishing’, please?”

Mr. Pio flips through his scores, glancing towards the door with a timidity Rey’s long become accustomed to. “You don’t want to wait for Ms. Organa?”

“She can join us when she likes,” Rey says. “But I want to do this first.”

Mr. Pio doesn’t argue with her. He finds his place in the scores, then offers her two bars before she can begin.

Rey accepts them, closes her eyes, and sings.

*

Her lesson with Leia never comes. After thirty minutes at the piano, Rey starts to pack up her things. Mr. Pio stutters out what she thinks is a reassurance, but something’s settled in her gut that renders it null. Rey offers him the best smile she can as she walks out of the practice room. It drops from her face as she stalks down the back halls.

She glances at the clock.

Performers at the Coruscant are only permitted to work six hours a day, so she’s done until she performs _Barber_ tonight. Still, the halls of the theater are a comfort. Rey paces until she can feel her breath settle in her lungs, then pulls herself together and goes searching for Leia.

She’s not with Luke (although Rey has to interrupt an orchestra reading just to check). The receptionist who has replaced Poe hasn’t seen her, and neither has Phasma.

“I did see Kylo not too long ago, however,” Phasma tells Rey, before sipping from a cup of black coffee. “Perhaps he’ll be able to find her?”

“Where was he going?”

“Towards the costume department, I think.”

Rey’s quick to thank her and dashes off towards backstage. She doesn’t see Phasma’s lifted brow, nor the confused smirk that takes over her face.

Rey doesn’t realizing the pace she’s walking at until some of her colleagues jump out of her way. She calls back her apologies and slows her pace, watching the walls as they turn from white block to dark wood. She forces herself to monitor her breathing, catching hints of wood as she passes set design and soft fabric as she passes sewing. She turns a corner and makes her way through an otherwise anonymous door, marked only by an elaborately hand painted sign that titles it ‘Narnia’. Rey snorts as she makes her way inside.

There’s a series of mirrors near the far end of the room, with a small lifted platform centered between all of them. Rey sees Kylo Ren standing on this platform with a yellow tape measure wrapped around his waist and a put-out look settled in his brows.

“Is Finn alright?” she asks, without announcing herself. Kylo whips around and nearly falls from the platform, and for a moment, Rey thinks she’ll giggle. His seamstress looks less than impressed, so she controls herself, but only just.

“He was fine,” Kylo says as he rights himself. “His ex wasn’t at the apartment when we arrived, so I left him in Dameron’s care.”

“Good.”

Kylo tilts his head, and Rey wonders if the conviction in her voice came off more as anger. She doesn’t know if she minds. He blinks at her for a minute more, then turns back to the seamstress currently rummaging around with his pant leg.

Rey glances down and catches herself as she traces his form upward. She knew he was tall – there’s really no avoiding that fact – but he looks _gigantic_ standing there, and really, it’s all a little intimidating. She swallows and casts her gaze aside, suddenly uncertain what she should do with herself.

“Erm,” she manages. “Thank you. Again. For going with him.”

She risks a glance up at him and sees that Kylo’s gone still. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then closes it, then opens it again. No sound comes out.

Rey feels a flush creeping up her neck and wills it to stay down.

“You’re welcome.” The words leave his mouth covered in rust, like it’s an effort for him to make the right sounds.

Rey steadies herself and looks at him again. There’s a hint of redness on the tips of his ears that she could almost – almost – find curious. Rey nods and forces herself to look away. She turns on her heel without a “goodbye” and walks out of the costume department. She doesn’t know if Kylo Ren watches her go, but her heart doesn’t slow until she knows she’s out of sight. Even so, she keeps up her hurried pace until the wooden walls of the Coruscant have turned back into stone.

She has four hours before she’s on call for _Barber_ , so she resolves to see Finn. Rey stops at a corner store and picks up a box of chocolate along with cranberry juice, orange juice, and vodka. As the cashier tucks these things into their plastic bags, Rey looks out the window and sees that the sky has begun to darken.

“Hope you have an umbrella,” the cashier calls.

Rey doesn’t. When January lets loose its usual slushy snow, she starts to run.

She arrives at Finn’s doorstep soaked to the bone, anyway. When she pulls herself together enough to knock, it’s Poe who answers the door.

“How’s he doing?” Rey asks at once. There is some small part of her that’s surprised that Poe’s still around, but at the same time, she knows him. Friend or not, he’s not the kind of person who would leave a crying man alone.

“He’s on the couch,” Poe says, motioning her inside. His somber face cracks for a moment as he offers her a smile. “He’s been wondering when you were going to show up.”

“He knows me well.” Rey steps inside and kicks off her shoes, all the while trying not to get Finn’s carpet too wet. The window blinds in the living room have been drawn, and everything has been cast in a dim grey. Lightning flickers outside the window, and only in the flash of light does Rey manage to see Finn. He’s wrapped in a blanket and huddled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn nestled in his lap. Rey has seen dogs in pet shelter commercials who’ve looked less pathetic, and it makes her heart ache.

“Finn?” Poe says, stepping around her from the side. “Rey’s here.”

 “Hello, peanut,” Rey goes straight to his side, leaving her bags to sit at the foot of the coffee table. She wraps her arms around him and kisses his forehead. Finn leans into her and lets her coddle him while Poe fishes through her things.

“Chocolate,” he nods, before bringing the box to the couch. “Good call.”

“Only the best,” Rey says. Poe cuts open the box with a pocket knife from his back pocket and trades it for the popcorn in Finn’s lap. Finn blinks at it, then sniffles, then snuggles closer to Rey’s chest.

“You really do love me,” he teases.

“Of course I do, you dork,” Rey sighs.

She leaves Finn to dig into his chocolate, moving to the kitchen to start mixing drinks. When she returns, Finn and Poe are leaning against one another, flipping through television channels to find something to watch.

“You two look cozy,” she says as she settles down between them. “Shame I can’t drink with you tonight.”

“You, missy, have to be sober so you can sing,” Finn manages, his sense of humor grinning at her even through his sadness.

“I know,” Rey grumbles. “And I don’t even get to act drunk.”

Poe looks between the two of them, his mouth curling into a smile. “Is acting drunk better than actually being drunk?” he asks. “Or is it better the other way around?”

This launches an argument that lasts the better part of an hour. By the time Rey manages to look at the clock, her sides ache from laughter. Poe has just concluded a rousing defense of the finer qualities of cheap beer; a rebuttal to Finn’s claim that is an audience, not alcohol, that is truly a drug. She’s not sure where she stands, but Rey is smiling as she watches laughter dance across her friends’ faces.

“As much as I hate to cut the fun short,” she says, coming to her feet. “I have to go and do my job.”

“Aw, peanut.”

“Buzzkill.”

Rey laughs, and the sound fills the whole of the apartment. She sees Finn set aside what remains of the chocolate she brought him. He catches her in a hug before she can even turn towards the door, his strength all-encompassing and his heartbeat strong against her chest.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Rey doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around him in return. When they part, she directs her gaze to Poe, who remains sitting on the couch. “You sticking around?”

“Think so,” Poe says, shrugging at her before directing his attention to Finn. “I’m going to introduce you to telenovelas, amigo. I’m missing an episode if I stay here, and I _need_ to find out what happens with these two girls and their mutual baby daddy.”

“Riveting,” Rey deadpans, but she’s caught up in the sound of Finn’s laughter. She presses a kiss to his cheek before retrieving her coat, then watches fondly as he resettles himself on the couch.

“Break a leg, peanut!” he calls.

“¡Buen suerte!”

Rey lets the door swing shut behind her. She doesn’t move after she hears the lock click into place. The door handle beneath her hand stings with its rainy coolness; she lets it go, but waits until she hears the television turn on inside before she starts to move away.

Her walk back to the Coruscant is lit by streetlights that illuminate a world still damp and drooping. Rey pulls her coat tight around her shoulders and warms herself with the memory of Finn’s laughter and with the kindness that shone like a beacon in Poe’s brown eyes.

Her performance that night is stunning, but she doesn’t remember most of it. When the stage lights go down and the show has come to an end, she makes her way back to her dressing room to check for messages on her phone. There’s nothing from Finn, but there are two texts from two different unknown numbers. Rey furrows her brow, but opts to change into her street clothes before she bothers to find out who they’re from.

The timestamp on the first message indicates that it was sent shortly before her performance began. Rey frowns at it, then flicks it open.

<< Unknown Number:

We should set up a time to practice. What does your schedule look like? >>

Rey raises an eyebrow, her mouth pulling down into a frown. Then she reads the second message.

<< Unknown Number:

Just put Finn to bed. He might have a hangover tomorrow, but it’ll be better than red eyes. Hope your performance went well! >>

There’s no need to guess who the sender of the second message is. Rey adds ‘Poe Dameron’ to her contacts, then types out her response.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Thanks for taking care of him. I know he appreciated it. See you tomorrow. >>

The first message – well. She debates not responding to it, the culmination of the day weighing heavy on her shoulders, but there’s a part of her that’s had its curiosity peaked.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Sorry, who is this? I assume you’re with the company, but it’d be nice if you included your name. >>

She puts her phone away and continues to pack up her things. A group of the orchestra walks out at the same time she does, so she folds herself in with them, not talking to anyone, but smiling and listening to their overview of the night. She slips away from them after a while, the streetlights her only company as she makes her way home.

It’s not until she’s two blocks from her apartment that she feels her cellphone buzz.

<< Unknown Number:

Don’t play coy, Rey. What’s your schedule? >>

Rey smirks and takes the steps to her apartment two at the time. It’s early, – well, it’s early for her – but she starts into what feels like the normal personal’s bedtime routine: washing her face, brushing her teeth, and trading her jeans for a pair of warm sweat pants before climbing into bed with the lights down low.

Only when she feels the unfamiliar hand of sleepiness wash over her does she bother to respond.

<< Rey Kenobi:

It’s up on the announcement wall, just like everyone else’s. I’m sure you can check that and get back to me. >>

A strange sort of victory makes Rey’s heart glow golden. She smirks, sets her alarm, and turns her text alerts to silent before pulling the covers over her head. Sleep, for once, is merciful; it rests on her as gently as a feather and sends her off with no new messages to rehash in her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment on the hour limit in opera houses: I ended up downloading a 120 page "How To Run an Opera House" thesis when researching this piece, and both dancers and performers have limits on how much time they can spend working without breaks - or working in a day, generally. It's really nifty to think about the intense care that these people have to take with their bodies. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	7. Chapter 06

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is both theatrical behavior and analysis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *points to the tags* SLOW. BURN. So slow. Abysmally slow. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter~! XOXO

Rey wakes in the morning to grogginess and four new messages on her phone. The former keeps her from responding to the latter. She takes her time getting herself ready to go into work, and her walk to the Coruscant can only be described as leisurely. She’s not sure where her vindictive, lazy mood has come from, but she can’t bring herself to shake it off. It’s only when Finn’s familiar ring tone starts to play on her phone that she even bothers to try

“Hey, peanut.”

“Morning,” Finn replies. His voice is soft and rough with the rumble of morning, but he sounds better than he did the day before. “Can you tell Leia that I’m not going to make it in today?”

“Oh, Finn,” Rey sighs. “Do you want me to come over on my lunch break?”

“Nah, nah, it’s not that bad.” She hears him sniff. “I just – I need one more day to get myself together. She’ll understand, won’t she?”

When Han Solo had died, the entire company had been devastated, but everyone had expected – everyone had _thought_ – that Leia was going to break entirely. She’d taken two weeks off, which came as no surprise, but it was Luke who took longer to come back than she did, and _Luke_ who everyone treated like he was made of broken glass. Leia, even in her grief, did not bow or break, but her gentleness with her brother made it clear that she respected those who did.

“I think she will,” Rey says.

She and Finn talk about nothing until she reaches the steps of the Coruscant. Finn hangs up and lets her ascend alone, though Rey takes the steps two at a time, eager to get inside. The familiar scent of velvet and industrial strength carpet shampoo still something in her soul as she pushes through the doors.

Her schedule for the day is straightforward: two hours with Leia, lunch, three hours on group rehearsal, break, and then a thirty minute private session with Luke before her final performance of _Barber._ Rey adjusts the weight of her bag on her shoulder as she makes her way towards the practice rooms.

Poe starts waving at her the moment she comes into view. “¡Buenos días, bonita!”

“Good morning.” Rey smiles. “When did you make it home last night?”

“Not too late,” Poe says with a shrug. “I had to leave eventually, though. I have this cat, demanding little shit, and he gets angry if he can’t wake me up at three in the morning to feed him.”

“Must make your life difficult,” Rey hums, almost sympathetic.

“I love him, anyway,” Poe says. “I’ll show you pictures, sometime.”

The two of them grin at one another for a moment longer while Poe fishes out the keys to Rey’s favorite practice room. She makes him reassure her that it’s empty before she disappears down the hall, humming one of her arias from _Barber_ under her breath.

She forces herself through simple scales, first, then through a series of triplets that she’d despised as a child. Only when it’s five minutes until nine does she allow herself a moment of indulgence. Rey sings the first few bars of ‘Think of Me’ and lets the sound of it wash over her. It’s always more difficult, she thinks, to sing without an accompaniment – be it on the piano, or a recording, or even a radio in the kitchen. She’s more aware of the sound of her own voice, though, and in the mornings, it is that awareness that she needs.

She waves at Poe as she closes up the practice room and starts for Leia’s office.

Her phone buzzes. Rey’s smile slips as she pulls it out, another message from her unknown number waiting to be opened. She glances down the hall to make sure no one’s coming, then starts to thumb through them.

<< Unknown Number:

Or you could just tell me, and this could be much easier >>

<< Unknown Number:

Don’t ignore me >>

<< Unknown Number:

You’ve fallen asleep, haven’t you? How disappointing. >>

Rey rolls her eyes. This person – and she still thinks she knows who it is, she just doesn’t want to _name_ them – is ridiculous. She’s tempted not to read the newest message, but she goes to open it, anyway. Better to address the beast head on rather than not at all.

<< Unknown Number:

It seems you’re free for practice on Wednesday and Friday just after group rehearsals. Meet me at the practice rooms today for your individual practice; we have work to do. >>

A spark of fury roars to life in her stomach. The only person who can order her around is Leia, and this self-possessed motherfucker is _definitely_ not Leia.

<< Rey Kenobi:

LUKE leads my individual practice today. Your demands will not be met. How sad for you. >>

She’s just outside Leia’s office when her phone buzzes again.

<< Unknown Number:

My uncle will not be able to assist you in your duets as well as I can. You need a proper teacher. >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

Too bad. >>

She silences her text alerts, takes a deep breath, and then steps into her mentor’s office. Leia looks up at her from behind her desk with an ear pressed to her phone and her fingers glued to her keyboard. She nods Rey towards the practice room, then dives straight back into her conversation with managerial jargon Rey hopes she never has to understand.

She’s still pulling out her scores when Leia joins her, frazzled and with bags under her eyes. “My apologies, dear,” she says, half collapsing on the piano bench. “Technical difficulties with some of the staging for one of our later operas, and the woman I’m usually in touch with has gone on vacation.”

“Sounds frustrating,” Rey says with a grimace. “I feel like I should’ve brought you coffee or something.”

“Somehow I doubt that more caffeine would help,” Leia chuckles. “But tell me: how are things going for you?”

Rey bites her lip. “It’s okay,” she says, after a beat. “ _Barber_ ’s fine, of course, and I’ve been looking over my scores for another performance, but my work with _Phantom_ ’s been taking up most of my time.”

“I suppose I can’t complain about that.”

Rey laughs. “It’s not bad,” she says again. “I just need to get more comfortable with the role.”

“That will come with time,” Leia nods. “And I have complete faith in you, dear.”

It warms her to the core to have Leia on her side, so Rey doesn’t bother to tuck away her smile. She shuffles her scores and tries not to blush, but Leia’s chuckle tells her that she’s not successful.

“Have you seen Finn today?” her mentor asks, a gentle change of subject.

Some of Rey’s happiness drains from her smile. “He called just before I came in,” she says. “He wanted me to let you know that he won’t be coming in today.”

“I can’t say that surprises me,” Leia says, but Rey sees some of the good humor go out of her face. “I wrote him out of group rehearsal, just in case.” She stifles a chuckle, then acknowledges Rey’s surprise. “I can’t help but resent the young man who did this to him,” she admits. “And not only because he’s taken away one of my star performers.”

“The feeling is quite mutual.”

The conversation folds in on itself, and before Rey knows it, Leia is directing her to her feet. Her vocal chords stretch at Leia’s command, bell-like tone quality echoing through the room precisely as though Leia had commanded it.

It seems rude to call Leia a witch, but she’s magic with voices, and Rey has yet to discover how she does it.

The hour passes without noticeable hitch until the final five minutes. Rey and Leia are just wrapping a conversation about Christine’s motive in ‘Masquerade’ when a dark figure appears outside the practice room door. Rey feels herself tense, and knows it must show in her face, because Leia turns around almost at once. 

She hears her mentor sigh. “Well,” Leia says. “At least he’s not barging in this time.” Rey fights back a tired chuckle as Leia opens the practice room door.

Kylo Ren blinks at them from the other side, looking for all the world like a child caught with his hand inside a cookie jar. He’s quick to compose himself, but his look of surprise will be seared on Rey’s eyelids for the rest of her life. She holds on to it as he lingers, filling the air with uncomfortable tension.

“How can we help you, Kylo?” his mother asks. “Though do make it quick; we only have five minutes left to work today.”’

“I –” Kylo clears his throat, then pins his gaze on the wall just behind his mother’s head. “I got the time of our practice incorrect. I’ll be back later.” Just like that, he turns on his heel and storms away.

Leia stares after him, the barest hints of a smile playing in the corners of her mouth. She closes the door and turns back to Rey’s (thoroughly discombobulated) face.

“What was that?” Rey asks.

“Oh, dear,” Leia sighs. “I have loved that boy for the past twenty nine years, and even I couldn’t tell you.”

They end her lesson five minutes later, though neither of them get any more work done. Rey packs up her things and is prepping to go to lunch when a shadow detaches itself from the nearest wall and falls into step beside her.

“Is this entertaining for you?” Rey asks, without looking up.

“Far from it,” Kylo Ren says. “We would get much more work done if you would cooperate with me.”

He seems to have recovered himself well, Rey thinks, though she marks that up to his being a performer more than to any sense of social skill. She lifts an eyebrow when she goes to look at him and schools her face into something thoroughly unimpressed.

“I’m disinclined to cooperate with you,” Rey says. “Your mother is a lovely lady; didn’t she ever tell you that ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ do more for persuasion than making demands?”

“My mother is a creature of sentiment.”

Rey wonders how many times he’s repeated this to himself; she wonders, more quietly, if he really believes it.

“Then perhaps you should approach ‘creatures of sentiment’ with a touch of sentiment yourself,” she says. “And if you can’t be genuine about it, you can always lie.”

Kylo sputters, coming to a stop in the middle of the hall, while Rey carries on. “Why would I lower myself to that?”

Rey looks back over her shoulder. “That’s what we do for a living, Kylo,” she says, slowly. “We go out on stage, and we lie. All you have to do is pretend that this,” she gestures to the space between them. “Is another stage.”

She leaves him at that, walking from the Coruscant with a smile on her face and something not quite vindictive in her heart. She picks up two sandwiches from a nearby shop, then makes her way to Finn’s apartment to regale him with the story.

“Group practice is going to be terrible without you,” she tells him through a bite of roast beef. “Who am I supposed to make funny faces at?”

“Make them at Luke,” Finn says. “He might not make them back, but I’ll bet you can make him laugh.”

“You’re on.”

*

Rey walks into group practice two minutes before it starts and has to scramble to her seat at the front of the room. Leia meets her eye from her spot next to Luke’s maestro stand, and Rey sees the smallest of smiles tugging at her mouth. Luke is too busy standing in the midst of the present tenor section, chastising them for who knows what, to notice her rushing in.

Rey settles herself in her seat and pulls her own score from her bag. They won’t run a full practice today – no one wants to do that more than once – but they’ll run the biggest parts. This means ‘Hannibal’, ‘Masquerade’, and quite possible ‘Notes’, if they have enough time, with either Luke or someone else standing in for Finn. Rey bemoans his absence for a minute more, then finishes rearranging her score on her stand. When she glances out at her cast mates again, it’s to find Kylo staring at her. She raises an eyebrow, then makes a pointed effort to ignore him.

A minute and a half later, Luke returns to his seat by his sister and calls for the attention of the room.

“Right,” he begins. “Everyone turn to the first few bars of ‘Hannibal’, if you would. Phasma, Hux, come to the front of the room.”

Rey leans back in her seat and eyes her score. Her role is mostly background chatter here, until they move later into the song; it’s entirely possible that they won’t get to her today. All the same, she can start making notes in her score for cues she should look for.

She catches Luke’s eye and, on impulse, sticks out her tongue. Luke chokes on whatever it was that he was saying in an attempt to fight back a laugh.

And so the game begins.

Rey alternates between making faces at Luke, noting her score, and ignoring the ever-intensifying glare coming from one disgruntled Phantom. The hours pass more quickly this way until, at last, Luke throws up his hands and gives her something to do. Rey’s invited to the front of the room with fifteen minutes left in practice and runs lines against Ello and Snaps as they play the out of touch new managers of the Paris Opera House. She ducks her head and makes conversation to her feet until the men invite her to sing. She takes a deep breath, feels tension building in her lungs – and is cut off as Luke starts on his commentary. There’s a slight huff of laughter from somewhere in the room, but Rey doesn’t turn around to acknowledge it.

As she suspected (but is still mildly put out about), the practice ends without her singing a single note. Rey goes back to her seat and gathers her things only to see Kylo Ren in all his bat-like glory swooping down on his unsuspecting (and slightly frazzled) uncle. They start talking in hushed tones that she can’t quite make out, then both send a glance her way.

The temptation to make a face at _both of them_ is gnawing at her, but Rey reins herself in and pointedly turns away.

She’s just about to head out the door when Luke catches her by the arm. “There’s been a slight change of plans,” he says, and oh, boy, she knows where this is going. Rey glances over his shoulder to see Kylo Ren standing with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. She turns her gaze back to Luke and narrows her eyes.

“In my defense,” he says. “You two will be working together quite often, anyway. Might as well bite the bullet now.”

“We’ve already worked together,” Rey grumbles, but she lets Luke usher her to Kylo’s side. She levels him with a glower so fierce that he takes a step back, but the smile on his face never slips.

“I hate you,” she mutters as Luke guides them out.

To her great annoyance, Kylo laughs. “Oh, I know you do.”

*

The tension between them ratchets higher as they enter into the enclosed practice space. Luke, bless him, does his best to ignore it as he settles himself between them.

Rey tucks her hands into the small of her own back and stands like a soldier as she stares at the two of them.

“Right,” Luke says. “Rey, I was going to go over some character motivations with you, so Kylo, it’s good that you approached me.”

Rey raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

For a moment, Luke looks deeply amused. “There were some – well, some modifications made to _Phantom_ when it was performed here,” he says. “I’ve told you about some, of course, but I hadn’t thought seriously about reinstating them until recently. I spoke with Leia, and she seems to agree that there is potential in these changes.”

“You, my dear,” he says, placing a hand on Rey’s shoulder. “You can play innocent well, and the audience will like that, but I know that’s not who you are. And you,” he turns and raises a hand to touch his nephew’s arm, but falters. “You are by the most perfect Phantom I believe we’ve had in years. But the dynamic that the two of you have does not lend itself to a traditional reading of the piece.

“I’d like you two to run ‘Phantom of the Opera’, please,” he says, stepping away. “I’m going to have you do it twice. The first time, I want it to be more traditionally rooted. I’ll clarify what I want for the second once you’re done. But first, warm up! I’m sure your vocal chords have gone quite cold by now.”

Kylo and Rey exchange looks. Rey feels some vicious delight stab her in the chest as Kylo’s smile falls from his face. He looks contemplative, as though he’s trying to read both her and Luke’s mind, perhaps at the same time.

Despite their hesitation, both artists comply.

Luke makes his way to the piano while they run through the scales, pulling his own master score from his bag. Rey winces at the sight of it; it’s like a novel manuscript and a grad student’s thesis had a particularly large baby and are now forcing Luke to carry it. The image alone almost makes her miss a note, but she’s quick to pull herself back together.

She and Kylo tune to one another, then turn to look at Luke.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready.”

Kylo doesn’t speak and instead gives his uncle a nod. Luke counts them in, then plays without looking at his score. He keeps his eyes fixed on Rey as she starts to sing.

They’re only halfway through the song when he cuts the both of them off. “Okay,” he says, running a hand through his greying hair. “Let me start this by saying that none of that was bad. On some levels, that was actually quite good.”

“But?” Kylo growls.

“But you look like you want to choke on your tongue,” Luke tells him. “And Rey looks like she wants to murder you. For a duet that preludes one of the most seductive songs in the history of musical theater, that is not the framework we want to set up. So,” he brings his hands together in front of him. “Rey: how do you think Christine is feeling in this moment?”

Rey fights back a smile as Kylo groans and fists his hands through his hair. “Are you asking me as if she isn’t ‘magically entranced’,” she emphasizes the air quotes and relishes Kylo’s wince. “Or as if she is?”

“Let’s assume for a moment that she’s not,” Luke allows.

Rey leans back against the nearest wall and crosses her arms. “In the case,” she says. “I think she’s feeling overwhelmed. She’s coming off of a performance she didn’t know she’d be giving, and Raoul’s just come back into her life – he may adore her, yes, and she may have latent feelings for him, but he’s definitely doesn’t understand the emotional level she’s on. I think that, when the Phantom arrives, she’s almost relieved, because it means she can stay with what’s familiar to her instead of going out and facing more pressure.”

“Excellent assessment,” Luke says. “But by that measure, don’t you think she’d be happy to go with him?”

Rey opens her mouth, and then closes it and furrows her brow. “That’s…hard to say. Hypothetically?”

Luke nods, but doesn’t say a word. Then he turns to Kylo. “And you,” he says. “Where do you think the Phantom’s at in this moment?”

Kylo does not meet his uncle’s eye. Rey loses some of her frustration for a moment and tilts her head, curious.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, Kylo sighs. “Hypothetically,” he says, borrowing Rey’s inflection. “I’d say he’s impassioned. He’s just had a great success, which leads to great joy, but he’s also now faced with a potential rival who could steal away his only connection to the world he loves. He’s somewhere between infuriated and delighted, but he could also –” he trails off and frowns. “He could also be frightened.”

“Which could lead to desperation,” Luke suggests. “Through his passion and fear, he believes that he gains strength, and that strength will supposedly give him the power to stay connected to the world at large.”

“But if you put it like that,” Rey cuts in. “It’s less of a romantic song and more of a power play. It’s almost like –”

“They’re using each other,” Kylo finishes.

Rey gapes at her teacher, then at Kylo, then at Luke again. It takes her a moment to remember how to shut her mouth. Kylo doesn’t look much better; his mouth isn’t hanging open, but his brow is creased in deep thought. There’s a moment that Rey doesn’t see, where something clicks in his head, but it’s there and gone in a second.

“Sing the song again,” Luke instructs, moving back to the piano. “And think about it _that_ way instead of romantically. We’ll see how we can progress from there.”

Rey and Kylo exchange one final glance before shuffling back behind their music stands.

The next run through isn’t perfect – not by any stretch of imagination – but it is much, much better. Luke grins at them from his piano and has them run it again.

Rey’s practice is slated to end twenty minutes later, but the three of them linger until it’s been nearly an hour. Kylo trails after her as she goes to leave the practice room, and Luke trails behind him. Rey tries not to lose her temper at the awkward train they make, but her voice is tired and all she wants is to be left alone for a while.

When she goes to break away from the trio, it’s Kylo who stops her, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. Luke looks between the two of them, then bids them both farewell, slipping around the corner without so much as a glance backward. Rey waits impatiently until he’s out of earshot, then brushes Kylo’s hand away.

“So,” Kylo says, his hand dropping back to his side. “I think that went rather well.”

“Don’t say that,” Rey snaps. “You manipulated the situation to get what you wanted. It won’t happen again.”

She narrows her eyes at Kylo’s smirk and turns away. “Not with me, at least,” she adds. “I could care less what you do to other people.”

“We work well together, you have to admit that,” Kylo insists as he follows her down the hall. “If you’d just cooperate with me –”

“Like you were so willing to cooperate with me?” Rey glares at him from over her shoulder. “Look, you’re good at what you do. You can even be a good person, on occasion. But you’re not better than anybody here.”

“I know some people who would argue that,” Kylo says. “But that’s not my point. This could be a great performance, Rey –”

“And I have no doubt that it will be,” she interrupts. The door to the lobby comes into view. Rey adjusts her bag on her shoulder and tries to ignore the giant shadow that’s still loitering behind her. “But I’m not in the mood to cooperate right now. I have a performance tonight that I need to focus on first.”

“And after that, you’ll have another.” She doesn’t have to see him to know that he’s rolling his eyes. “And you’ll find a way to avoid me unless Luke or my mother _makes_ us interact. You can’t do this for an entire season, Rey. It’ll be easier if you give in now.”

The door to the lobby slams with a resounding smack. Kylo is still stumbling after her, his hand reached out to grab her arm. Rey yanks herself away, then turns and pulls herself up to her full height. “You,” she snarls, baring her teeth. “You _do not_ get to tell me what I can and cannot do. You do not get to tell me _anything_ about myself, because _you do not know me_. I’ll work with you, but only because Leia and Luke want me to.”

She doesn’t know if they have an audience, can’t be bothered to look around and see. All the same, she must look a sight. She takes a furious step forward and sees Kylo stumble backwards; the rush of power to her head is heady, but she pays it no mind. “Now,” she says, her voice soft and controlled. “We’re done for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow for practice.”

She leaves him like that, standing in the middle of the Coruscant lobby as she heads for the door. If he moves to chase after her, she doesn’t notice, and she doesn’t bother to spare a glance back to see. She descends the Coruscant’s front steps with her head held high, but her breathing doesn’t even out until the theater is out of sight.

She sends a message to Finn from the corner of an intersection, asking what he wants for dinner. The walk, she reasons, will clear her head. She can just catch a ride from someone else when she goes to perform tonight.

Everything will be alright, in the end. She just has to make it through the rest of the season without murdering her cast mates or wanting to throw herself into the pit.

Completely reasonable tasks. She shouldn’t have a problem at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *points to tags again* Enemies to friends to lovers. 
> 
> Rey's gotta overcome a lot in this universe, and even as Kylo is taking some steps towards being less of an utter ass, he's doing it in a way that's...well, Kylo-ish. Rey, meanwhile, has to parse out where she stands in the opera house - is she a good enough performer? Is she always going to be judged by the standard Obi-Wan set? With those kinds of insecurities wandering around her brain, tied with the emotional stress of such a big role, she probably doesn't feel like she has a lot of time to decode Kylo Ren's bad attempts at forming a connection.
> 
> In any case, let me know what you thought! Hope you're enjoying the long journey that this story takes!


	8. Chapter 07

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey's sinuses take a beating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, folks! Thank you again for all of your lovely comments on the last chapter. I know this piece is moving slowly, and I know it seems like Rey and Kylo will never move on past their pride and the prejudices *COUGH COUGH* they have against each other. The draw out makes the end result all the more fun, though, I promise. XOXO
> 
> Edit: for those of you who have seen/read Pride and Prejudice in some format, be it LBD or the original novel: do you remember how Elizabeth/Lizzie was so caught up in her own beliefs about Darcy that she turned into a relatively bias narrator up until the point where she got her head smacked with a well-worded letter?
> 
> Kylo is still writing his letter. Be patient with our dear Lizzie. <3

The first week of February comes and goes without any noticeable developments. Rey settles into a routine: arrive at work, go to group practice, meet Finn (and occasionally Poe) for lunch before hiding in Leia’s office for an hour. Avoid Kylo Ren until they absolutely have to meet, and then act distant until their rehearsal is over. She sees Luke sigh at her more than once, but Rey has neither the time nor the patience to coddle anyone, let alone a man who finds pleasure in dancing on her last nerve.

She hates him.

The only good thing that comes of their enforced time together is the slow change in Christine’s characterization. Leia’s come to Rey’s one on one practices once or twice, and she watches her protégé and her son interact with a look that Rey can only identify as pride. The Christine they’re building together is a fierce thing, but not proud: she takes what the world gives her willingly and never places herself above anyone else. That said, Leia and Rey make it certain that no one pushes her around. This leads to a one on one with Phasma that is more an argument than it is a rehearsal. They go for drinks after, anyways, and any shop talk gets shut down with another round of drinks.

Rey comes home that night thoroughly tipsy, but a bit more satisfied. When she and Phasma clash in ‘Notes: Reprised’ the next day, the room bursts into amused (if not slightly confused) applause.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself,” Finn says when he catches her after. Rey only grins at him – her throat’s been feeling a touch sore as of late, and she doesn’t want to push it. She orders soup for lunch that day along with a hot tea and makes it through her practices without a falter.

When she wakes the next morning, it’s to a raging headache.

Rey reaches for her phone to try and turn off her alarm, desperate to breathe through a clogged nose. She heaves herself upright and cradles the phone to her chest, blinking at the alarm as it flashes on screen. She sniffles once, twice, and again before she can catch even the barest of breaths.

Rey leans her head back against her headboard and sighs.

She has two options: go into work and get everyone else sick, or stay home and lose a full day of rehearsals. On one hand, the company is bound to come down with a cold at some point; early February is the perfect time for the annual cast infection. On the other hand, Rey really doesn’t feel like pulling a ‘patient zero’ act. She dials Coruscant’s main office and lets to ring of the dial tone buzz against her head – it feels more like a hammer than a controlled note, but she assumes that’s the fault of the virus.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mr. Pio, it’s Rey,” Rey sniffles. “Is Leia in?”

“I’m afraid that Ms. Organa has yet to arrive. Do you want me to leave her a message?”

“Yes, please.” Another sniffle. “I’ve come down with a cold and need to take the day off so I don’t get anyone else sick.”

“Ah, yes!” Tres Pio’s voice pounds against the walls of her skull, but Rey grits her teeth and muddles through. “It is wise of you to spend the day resting, Miss. Kenobi. We wouldn’t want you to go missing in action!”

“Of course not, Mr. Pio.” From anyone else, Pio’s phrasing would sound like a threat, but Rey’s long adjusted to the man’s linguistics. “Thank you for all your help.”

She hangs up the phone before he can say another word and lets herself flop back down against her sheets. The pressure in her head migrates down into her sinuses, lingering until she has to roll over just to breathe. There’s a guilt that settles into her stomach that only makes her headache worse, but Rey does her best to ignore it. She lets out a huff and traces patterns on her ceiling until she drifts back off to sleep.

When she next opens her eyes, the clock on the wall reads noon and she has two voicemails waiting for her on her phone. There are a number of texts waiting for her, as well, but Rey doesn’t bother to open them.

Instead, she closes her eyes again. After a moment to prepare herself, Rey pushes herself to her feet and makes the wobbly walk into her kitchen. She has to lean against the refrigerator when she arrives to better combat the rush of pressure out of her forehead and into her nose, but she stays upright, and given the ache that seems to have taken over her body, Rey considers that an accomplishment.

She flips on her coffee maker after filling it with water and rummages through her pantry for a tea bag. The tea bag takes the place of the coffee filter as she sets it to run, then steps aside in search of a heat-safe water bottle. Rey fills this while her coffee kettle fills with tea and sets it in her microwave to heat for several minutes.

When tea and hot water bottle are prepared, she makes her way back into the living room. She cradles the water bottle against her chest as she starts to go through her phone, taking the voice messages one at a time.

“Hello, Rey, it’s Leia,” the first one says. “I hope you’re getting the rest you need. If everything works out, I hope to see you back here tomorrow. We have a little more work to do on your role for _Carmen_ , and Luke is anxious to start blocking, now that the practice room has cleared out. In any case, get lots of rest and take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon.”

Rey smiles, deletes the message, and moves on to the second.

“Rey, Rey, Rey,” Finn chides, his laughter audible even through the phone. “I’m back for a couple of days, and then _you_ go missing. We’ll never see each other this way; it’s like the world is keeping us apart! Anyway, get some sleep. I’ll swing by later with some soup, unless you tell me not to. Actually, I’m going to do it anyway, so be prepared! Later.”

Rey sighs fondly and glances at the clock. Finn is showcasing tonight in a city-open workshop, so he won’t be able to stay with her long. All the same, if someone’s going to spread the cast flu, she’d rather it not be her. She goes to send him a text and gets a peak of the messages she has in store. She does not read them until her text to Finn is sent. Then, she sighs, and goes to open them.

<< Unknown Number:

Where are you? >>

<< Unknown Number:

My uncle’s looking distressed. I’d hurry up, if I were you. >>

<< Unknown Number:

?????? >>

<< Unknown Number:

How unprofessional. >>

Rey rolls her eyes and nearly lets herself fall onto the couch. She forces herself to descend slowly, instead. Of course he’d be an ass about this. The great Kylo Ren doesn’t get sick, oh, no; “professionals” don’t get sick. They muddle through, humble yet brilliant souls that they are.

For a moment, Rey’s thoughts veer, and her heart stings at the idea that she is anything less than professional. Then, she rights herself. It takes a concentrated effort for her not to delete Kylo’s messages. She leans back on the couch and reaches for the television remote, all the while plotting the perfect response.

It comes to her around two, after two consecutive episodes of the Great British Bake-Off. Rey picks up her phone and sends off her response. Then she turns the volume off on her phone and sets it face down on her coffee table so she can’t see the screen.

<< Rey Kenobi:

I’m sick, asshat. As much as I’d love to come in and expose you to this, you’re enough of a headache on your own. >>

She spends another thirty minutes watching television, her sense of victory marred only when her eyes start to ache. Then she lays back on the couch and pulls her laptop onto her lap. She fishes for her earbuds and pulls Youtube up more out of habit than out of actual design.

There are a few bootlegged versions of _Carmen_ that have been uploaded over the past few years, and while she _shouldn’t_ be watching them, it’s as close to practicing as she’s going to get today. Rey clicks on one of the playlists and closes her eyes as the overture washes over her. She dozes off and dreams of the Spanish mountainside, waking just in time to watch Don Jose drive a dagger into Carmen’s heart. Her brain foggy with sleep and only just aware, she recoils from the screen. Don Jose’s final laments echo in her ears, and Rey is surprised to feel a tear make its way down her cheek.

The playlist comes to an end, after that, and leaves her staring at a screen of recommended videos. Rey blinks, then sucks the taste of sleep and fog from her mouth as she forces herself to gather her bearings. She glances at the clock and realizes, without much surprise, that she’s lost the last two hours.

She doesn’t mind. If Finn keeps his word (and she doesn’t doubt that he will), he’ll be over in little more than an hour. Rey stretches, then reaches for her phone. There are messages waiting for her, though none are from Finn.

<< Unknown Number:

I didn’t know. >>

<< Unknown Number:

I’ll see you tomorrow. >>

The temptation to miss another day of work just to spite this irritating motherfucker is great, but Rey’s disinclined to let him drive her from the theater. She rubs her fingers against her temple and opens a new message for Finn.

<< Rey Kenobi:

You still coming over tonight? >>

She turns her text alerts back on before setting her phone aside, then readjusts her laptop back into her lap. She glances over the recommended videos before scrolling down the page in search of others. Her role as Michaela – Don Jose’s cast off lover – is small, but large enough that she has an aria or two of her own. She can’t quite remember who’s playing Carmen, or even who’s playing Don Jose, but there’s some importance to walking into practice and knowing at least _some_ of a character’s part.

A video near the bottom of the recommendations catches her eye. It’s a bootleg from the Coruscant, a decade or so back – a late performance of _Don Quixote_. The only reason Rey lingers is because her grandfather is standing, front and center, in the middle of the thumbnail.

She’s clicked on it before she registers that she’s moved.

The music starts abruptly. Rey leans back into the couch cushions and watches her grandfather move around the stage, slapping people on the backs before turning back to the audience to sing. His voice resonates through her headphones, its deep tenor a golden brown; it’s not difficult to imagine what it sounded like in person. Her grandfather’s acting is as smooth as his voice. The characters he interacts with seem to genuinely like him, and he seems to wear his role as both romantic lead and comic relief well.

Rey has memories of attending his performances, of course, though they don’t linger with her as much as they used to. They follow her around Coruscant’s halls, now, a comfort and a challenge all bundled up in one. She doesn’t know if the audiences she plays to sees Obi-Wan’s face in hers, but on the rare occasions lingers in her dressing room, she catches sight of his eyes and his nose and the quirk of his eyebrow, so long as she’s cast in the right light.

The video ends as abruptly as it begins. Rey scrambles, at once, to find the next one.

She’s four videos in when there’s a knock on her door. Rey jumps, and her earbuds fall from her ears.

“Rey?” a familiar voice calls. “Wake up, sleepyhead! We brought dinner!”

“‘We’?” Rey mutters, forcing herself off the couch. She stumbles on her way over to the door and peeks through the peephole. Finn is standing on the other side with a crockpot in his hands and an unfamiliar brown jacket slung over his shoulders. He goes to knock again as she comes off her toes and stands awkwardly, one hand raised, in the doorway after she pulls the door open. He grins at her, unashamed, and comes sauntering into her apartment.

“Hello to you, too,” Rey says, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Her voice must sound terrible, because the grin Finn gives her is tinged with sympathy. “Hello, peanut,” he says. “I’d hug you, but I don’t need this cold setting in until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Don’t worry, I understand.” Rey laughs. She watches as he sets the crockpot on her counter and plugs it into an outlet, then hears another knock. She turns with a frown – and watches Finn beat her to the door.

“It’s just Poe,” he explains, his hand lingering on the handle. “I invited him over to my place after work, and he said he wanted to come and visit you.”

“That’s fine,” Rey says, one of her eyebrows creeping upward. “Though I hope he’s prepared to see me a mess.”

“You’re never a mess, bonita.” Her door seems to have opened itself to let Poe Dameron swagger into her apartment. Finn laughs and closes the door behind him.

Poe steps forward and presses a box of tissues into Rey’s hand, along with a bottle of cough medicine. “We heard you were feeling down,” he says. “I almost got you a cake, but I figured this would be more appreciated.”

“Why would I need a cake?”

 “Because you’re patient zero,” Finn teases. “First sicko of the year. Now we’re all gonna get it. I’m only here so I can get it out of the way.”

Rey can’t help it; she laughs. The men glance at each other, then offer her broad smiles in return.

They all end up on the couch, cradling bowls of what Finn and Poe call “Chicken Soup Extraordinaire” in their laps while the Great British Baking Show plays on television. Poe makes comments about each of the contestants and begins to do impressions by the time they start the fifth episode of the session. Finn stands as his counterpoint, tightening his voice until he is the Mary Berry to Poe’s slew of contestants. All the while, Rey struggles not to choke on her soup, too busy laughing at the both of them.

There’s still soup left in the crockpot when Finn next glances at his watch. He stands from the couch and stretches. The lack of him lets Rey flop onto Poe, her head resting heavily on his broad shoulder.

“I have to go,” Finn tells them as Rey works to right herself. “Luke will be _pissed_ if I don’t make it to the workshop on time, and I’m not sure I’m ready to see him angry.”

“I’ll drive you back,” Poe says. He’s gentle as he helps Rey settle back into the cushions, but is quick to move to Finn’s side. “My place is in that direction, anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

Rey watches the two men stare at one another. Poe is glowing in the evening light, and Finn – Finn looks nervous, but happier than she’s seen him in a while. Rey allows herself a secret smile and tries to tuck herself into nest of pillows on the couch.

“I’m sure.”

Finn looks back at Rey, his smile broad and his eyes bright. “You’ll be okay without us, right, peanut?”

“Of course I will,” Rey nods. A sneeze sneaks up on her a moment later and leaves her convulsing, but it only makes the men laugh. Poe nudges the box of tissues closer to her with the back of his hand.

“I’ll text you later to check in,” Finn tells her as he heads for the door.

“Take the cold medicine about fifteen minutes before you want to go to sleep,” Poe adds. “It’ll knock you out in no time.”

“Thanks, guys,” Rey says, her voice muffled by the tissue she has pressed to her nose. “I really appreciate this.”

The twin smiles that they give her warm the cockles of her heart. “No problem, peanut,” Finn says. The door swings shut behind them and locks with a gentle ‘click’. Rey can hear their chatter for another minute more, then the clatter of the hall door as they make their way down the stairs.

Only when she’s certain they’re gone does she allow herself to flop back onto the couch. Her headache is still pounding against the front of her skulls, but it’s tempered by good humor. The television is still on in the background, but Rey ignores it. She sets her bowl of soup aside and closes her eyes, letting herself drift for a while before she has to will herself back into consciousness.

She’s not fond of being sick, but this day – a day of rest and reflection – feels like something she needed.

It’s nearing the end of the first season of the Great British Baking Show when Rey rouses herself enough to turn of the television. She blinks and picks up her soup bowl as she stands, making her way into the kitchen on unsteady feet. She fills the bowl with water, then walks back into the living room. The box of tissues and the cold medicine come with her as she heads for the bedroom. The clock on the wall reads early, earlier than she thinks she’s ever gone to bed before, but she doesn’t really mind. Rey brushes her teeth and collects her phone before crawling beneath her covers. She checks her email, and then her text messages, in the comfort of the dark.

There are three waiting for her.

<< Finn Trooper:

Hope you’re feeling better, peanut. I’ve got the hints of the cold already, thanks so much. >>

<< Poe Dameron:

Remember: cold medicine fifteen minutes before you want to go to sleep. See you tomorrow, sicko! >>

His message makes Rey snort. She likes Poe Dameron and has for a while, but if Finn likes him as much as she thinks he does…well. It’s likely she’ll be seeing a lot of him in the future.

The sight of the last text makes her sigh. She hesitates before opening it, not wanting to deal with any more venom than she has to today. After a moment, she flicks it open. Better to face it now than in the morning, she reasons, and anyway: if she left it until morning, she’d only spend her early hours angry.

<< Unknown Number:

Drink water. It’ll help. >>

The text was sent less than an hour ago.

Rey sets her phone aside and tries not to think about it. Still, her brow is furrowed when she meets her own gaze over the bathroom sink. She presses a hand against her forehead and sighs. He doesn’t have to make sense. He’s Kylo Ren. If he started making sense, then time would stop, or pigs would fly, or the world would explode. She throws a handful of water over her face and makes her way to her bed, pulling her covers just below her nose and snuggling into her mattress.

Sleep comes easy for the first time in months. The thought crosses her mind just as she drifts off, and it almost makes Rey laugh. All she had to do for sleep, it seems, was trade in her health. How poetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey lives in an ideal world where there's more than one season of the Great British Baking Show on Netflix. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	9. Chapter 08

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things shatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! I hope you had/are having a lovely holiday. Apologies for the delay in update; I got swept up into the festivities.
> 
> Now, I know our duo is still struggling through some strife, and I know that can be frustrating, but believe me: the journey/chase/character development each of them has to go through will lend itself to the conclusion. Be patient with our growing goofballs. After all, they do both work in the theatre - is it any surprise that they're going to act like drama queens?
> 
> *....awkwardly sidles off stage* Enjoy! XOXO

The sets for _Carmen_ are carefully arranged on the moving docks while the cast blocks the next day. Rey moves as she’s directed, her score in hand, and even though she’s not singing, the assistant director seems more than happy to have her there with them. She hands Rey a bottle of hand sanitizer before moving her to her next mark, for which Rey is more than grateful.

Their first performance isn’t for another week, a gentle time lull so the city can recover from _Barber_. All the same, Rey feels an exhausted ache settle into her bones as practice ends for the day.

“Marsha,” she calls, waving the assistant director down. The woman looks up from her array of scores and offers Rey a smile.

“Yes?”

“Can we talk about performances schedules for a minute?” Rey asks. She sits herself down on the edge of the stage, better to look Marsha in the eye. The woman adjusts herself on the maestro stand and nods.

“I think,” Rey begins, hesitant only in the slightest. “I think that we should be giving Daisy more performance time.” Daisy, her understudy, is a petite girl of seventeen who sings with the voice of a woman four times her age. Rey likes her; she has a puppy-like quality about her that is automatically endearing.

Marsha tilts her head, considering. “I could see the benefit,” she says, after a moment’s pause. “I’ll have to talk to one of the Skywalkers before it gets approved, but it’d be good to give her more experience. Of course, that means less performance time for you.”

“That’s alright,” Rey says, and she means it. She adjusts her tailbone and feels something crack, but neither she nor Marsha comment. Amusement replaces the concern in Marsha’s face, however, and Rey assumes that she’s been found out.

“I’ll let you know what they say,” Marsha says, shooing Rey away. “Now get out of here. I want to go to lunch, too.”

Rey all but skips away from the stage, tired and achy but happy. With _Phantom_ coming up, her pay will be more than compensated, and some time off will allow her space to breathe. She catches a glimpse of Phasma lingering just above the pit. The shawl around her shoulders is a simplified version of the one she’ll wear as Carmen, but it helps her hold the character well. Rey waves at her and receives a nod, in turn.

She makes her way down the Coruscant halls in search of Poe, her stomach grumbling for lunch. Finn, having woken up with her cold, is down for the count, but Rey’s not interested in eating alone. She passes the hallway to Leia’s office and catches a glimpse of her mentor, waves, then continues on her way. If Leia or Luke is exasperated with the flightiness of their cast, neither one of them has taken the opportunity to say so. It’s early enough in the season that they can still afford to be relaxed, Rey supposes. Any later, and their many absences would be real reason for concern.

Disgruntled lead staff or not, an uneasy feeling makes its way into Rey’s stomach whenever she thinks about group practice. A text message appeared on her phone only five minutes after she arrived in the morning from her usual unknown number, and it, paired with the ones from the night before, has only served to make her nausea worse.

<< Unknown Number:

You made it. >>

Rey grits her teeth and sighs. If Mr. Unknown Number is going to start being nice, she would have really appreciated a warning. The confused feeling in her gut mixes with the unease that’s already there and leaves her woozy. In the end, Rey does her best to ignore it. She finds Poe and laughs with him over a bowl of soup from the cafeteria, letting him regale her with the stories until she’s whisked off for practice.

There are more empty chairs open in the reading room, so Rey grabs a seat near the front without conflict. She sees Kylo already settled in, perched like some large, black hawk in the seat nearest the exit. He doesn’t look up as she sits, only adjusts the glasses that have taken up refuge on his nose.

Rey blinks at him, then forces her gaze downward.

Luke arrives four minutes before practice begins and makes a point of coming to Rey’s side. He sits down beside her and offers her a smile. “Feeling better?”

“A little bit,” Rey shrugs, fighting back the urge to sniffle. “I haven’t been singing much today, though, so I can’t make any guarantees on good sound quality.”

“I hadn’t planned on making you do much, anyway,” Luke admits. “But it’s good to know that you’re willing, if need be. With you and Finn indispose, we’ve decided to focus our sessions elsewhere.” He chuckles. “One day, we’ll be able to work with the meaty stuff. But not yet.”

“I am sorry,” Rey says. “I wish I could’ve avoided it –”

“My dear, there is nothing you can do to avoid a cold,” Luke says. “I’m only glad that you decided to spare the rest of us.” He claps her on the shoulder as he goes to stand, settling himself atop the conductor’s stand and ruffling his scores.

“Alright, everyone,” he says, his voice echoing in the empty space of the room. “We’ll be working ‘Notes’ and ‘Prima Donna’ today. As you can see, I’ve only invited those involved in the number to join us today. Once we’re back at full capacity, our group rehearsals will continue with everyone.”

There’s light laughter throughout the room. Rey keeps her eyes focused on Luke and tries not to blush. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Kylo tuck his glasses away. With his head bowed, she can’t tell whether or not he’s smiling.

“Now, Miss Phasma,” Luke says. “We’ve yet to hear you perform ‘Prima Donna’, though I have no doubt of your ability. Are you sufficiently warmed up, or would you like some more time?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Phasma says. It seems impossible that she could have snuck into the room, but Rey doesn’t remember seeing her. She scoots her chair to the side as Phasma makes her way out of the second row with Armitage Hux, their Piangi, at her side. Rey glances further back and sees Ello and Snaps whispering to one another in the rear seats.

“Good. My directors, I’ll be needing you, too.”

They come forward and flank their prima, twin smiles on their too-innocent faces. Luke raises an eyebrow at the both of them, but doesn’t say a word as he moves towards the piano.

“Four bars, and then you may begin,” he calls, glancing back. “Kylo, would you be so kind as to sing Finn’s part, as well as speak your own?”

Kylo seems to start, but is quick to nod his head. He turns back a few pages in his score, then looks back at his uncle. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” Luke turns his attention to Rey for a brief moment. “If you could be prepared to sing, Miss Kenobi, I would appreciate it, but I doubt we’ll get to your entrance for a while.”

There’s a scoff, most likely from Snaps. “You have no faith, Mr. Skywalker,” he grins. Rey giggles as Luke rolls his eyes.

“Four bars,” he repeats. Then his fingers are moving across the piano.

Ello and Snaps play off of each other beautifully; no matter how many times she’s seen them work, Rey’s convinced that they’ll always make her laugh. Ello struts around the small space in the front of the room, his hands full of imaginary ticket stubs and his voice lingering yet tight. Snaps ‘enters’ looking frazzled and wringing his hands with a sort of concern on his face that Rey _knows_ is acting, because she’s never seen an expression like it before – at least, not on Snaps.

Kylo enters next. He’s adjusted to the higher end of his range for Raoul, and Rey can tell right away that he’s not comfortable with the part. It’s not only in his voice, but in the way he holds himself; he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, which, compared to Snaps’ and Ello’s involved acting, leaves him looking out of place.

Phasma enters like a queen. The lift of her chin makes her regal, and her voice makes the walls of the reading room vibrate. Rey is half-certain that her mouth is hanging open, but she’s too distracted to do anything about it. Hux trails behind her and offers what she assumes is over-dramatic, operatic Italian, but she’s not paying much attention to him. It’s lucky, she supposes, that Phasma’s already in an opera; Carlotta uses more vibrato than anyone else in the musical, and the part seems to come to her naturally.

Watching her come at Kylo-as-Finn, though, is nothing short of hilarious. There are stifled giggle throughout the entire room as Phasma charges at him, shaking what Rey assumes is an invisible letter in his face. Kylo blinks at her, then bites his lip, and does his best to sass her in Raoul’s dulcet tones.

Rey covers her mouth with a hand in a desperate attempt to stop her laughter.

Luke lets this go on for a moment longer, then brings the moment to a stop. He moves from the piano to situate himself between his performers, talking about tone and humor and things that Rey starts to tune out. She pulls her phone out as discreetly as she can and sends a text off to Finn.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Kylo Ren is killing it as Raoul today. I think you’re going to be replaced. >>

She’s not serious, of course, but it will make Finn laugh as well as make him squirm. Rey tucks her phone back into her bag as the performers line themselves up to start the song once more.

They run the scene up to that point two more times, working to balance Phasma’s presence with Ello and Snaps’ humor. Kylo stands awkwardly off to one side as his uncle directs the other players about. He glances Rey’s way once – just once – and wrinkles his nose. Rey, who manages to catch his eye, lifts an eyebrow and does nothing to hide her smirk. The wrinkle turns into a snarl, but then they’re running the scene again, and his face is wiped clean.

Rey finds it all terribly amusing.

They make it to ‘Prima Donna’ with an hour left in the practice. Rey takes a moment for herself out in the hall to re-warm up her voice, then joins the standing cast at the front of the room. She positions herself closer to the piano and more hums her part than sings it, not willing to risk her voice when she’s only part of the chorus. Phasma, Ello, and Snaps play off of one another with a humor that should be campy, but they retain a dignity that Luke seems to enjoy. Hux and Kylo circle each other just behind them, their voices interlocking as the music builds.

There comes a moment when Rey joins in fully. She doesn’t notice, but Kylo’s neck immediately goes stiff. The chorus rises, the rafters are shaking, and –

“Alright!” Luke calls, cutting them off with a flourish that none of them see. “That was quite well done; I’m impressed with the lot of you.”

Rey feels like a moment has been stolen from her, but she does her best not to show it. She schools her face into a gentle smile and readjusts herself so she’s leaning on the piano. Luke calls Phasma over to his side, so she has a moment to rest. Her vocal chords feel good, warm, but she doesn’t want to stretch what she doesn’t already have.

“Kylo,” she hears Luke say. “I want you to leave Raoul’s part, this next time. It’ll be our last run of the day, I promise, but I want to hear what this sounds like with your spoken part over the top of it. It will be pre-recorded for the actual performance, of course, but I want to see how we can start to balance it.”

Rey glances in Kylo’s direction and sees him nod. She pushes herself back upright and gives Luke a subtle thumbs up: she’ll keep singing, even if she’s not doing any blocking. Group rehearsal is ticking towards its end, and she, like everyone else in the room, is growing tired.

Luke starts them off from about mid-song and watches with hawk-like intensity as they build once more. As the song hits its peak, Rey hears Kylo clear his throat. Then:

“So, it is to be war between us!” His voice, no longer confined by Raoul, is dark and knife-like. “If these demands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will befall your house!” The sharp laugh that follows bleeds into the first note of the final chorus, but Luke doesn’t seem to mind. The song ends with a piano flourish and gentle clapping from everyone still in the room.

“That was excellent,” Luke says. Rey looks over at him and finds him grinning. “You all did marvelously. I cannot wait to see that one stage. Now, rest your voices and be on your way; I won’t keep you any longer today.”

There’s a chorus of “thank you”s as the attending cast begins to pack up. Rey moves away from the piano to start collecting her things, only to be called back by Luke’s quite cough. A moment later, Kylo joins her. Rey looks up to glare at him until Luke coughs again. When she looks back, she catches the barest hints of his smile.

“I’d like to have another combined practice with the both of you, if you don’t mind,” Luke says. “Perhaps not today, as Kylo, I know we’ve worked your voice, and Rey, you’re still recovering. Is tomorrow morning better for the both of you?”

“My schedule is open,” Rey shrugs. She’s less than excited about the prospect of working with Kylo again, but she knows it’s necessary. The grunt she hears him give assures her that he’s no more enthusiastic than she is.

“Excellent,” Luke says. “Then I shall meet you at the practice rooms – say, about nine?”

Kylo and Rey exchange brief glances. Rey grits her teeth, then looks back to look. “That’s fine with me.”

“And for me,” Kylo says.

“Excellent,” Luke repeats. “I’ll bring the coffee. Now get out of here.”

Rey can’t help it; she giggles as Luke shoos them both away. Kylo’s quick to leave her side and gather up his own things. Rey does her best not to look at him as she lets her score rest in her bag; as content as she is with the work of the day, there’s only so much of him she can handle. She manages to walk out of the room before him and keeps a steady pace up until she’s rounded the corner. It’s not running away, she reasons, if the chaser doesn’t know that he’s chasing.

The thought makes her laugh, but leaves a strange sort of feeling linger in her stomach.

Without any performances, and with her lesson with Leia canceled, there’s no reason for Rey to linger in the Coruscant. The sun is just making its way towards the horizon as she walks down the polished front steps, cheerful in a way she hasn’t seen in awhile. Her phone buzzes as she walks, but she pays it no mind. She’ll go home first, she decides, and make use of Finn’s crockpot in order to bring him something nice.

It’s only in line at the corner store, carrots and cough drops in hand, that she bothers to check her phone.

<< Unknown Number:

Will practicing with you tomorrow get me sick >>

The lack of the question mark makes her snort. She can almost hear the dry tone crackling through the air, and the obnoxious man isn’t even present.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Only if I sneeze on you. Which I might. >>

She smiles as the cashier and hands her the groceries, then sends a message to Finn, letting him know that she’ll be dropping by.

It’s a peaceful night, after that. Her phone remains silent, Finn greets her with a smile, and they split another round of chicken soup while leaning against Finn’s counter and chatting about their days.

“Poe’s on his way to replacing you as my lunch buddy,” she tells him, spooning the last of her vegetables into her mouth. At his flustered sputtering, she laughs. “He’s a good guy, but he’ll never replace my peanut.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Finn insists, but there’s an ounce of sincerity in the wrinkles of his brow. Rey pats him on the shoulder before setting her bowl aside. “He is a good guy, though,” Finn admits. “I’m glad I actually got to talk to him instead of, you know, just taking practice room keys from him all the time.”

“Agreed,” Rey says with a nod.

“It’s just – he was kind of awesome,” Finn continues. “When we were heading for my apartment after what Sidon did, he didn’t let Kylo give me any shit. Not that Kylo was giving me any shit,” he insists as Rey’s smile sinks into a scowl. “But you know Kylo; he’s a six foot five Grim Reaper on a good day. Poe…Poe’s like a daisy.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“No, I mean it in a good way!” Finn says. “He’s short and all glow-y, like he’s rocking that photosynthesis nonsense, but he’s also not gonna let anyone stop him from doing his thing. You know what I’m saying?”

Rey feels the tentative warmth in her chest start to expand. It leaks out into her smile only to be reflected on Finn’s face, and they stand there, grinning, as the thought of their new friend. “I’m glad you like him,” Rey says again. “He seems like a good person to have on our side.”

“He is.” Finn nods. The set of his shoulders brooks no argument, and the curve of his grin makes Rey smile all the more. She has to move as the warmth in her stomach threatening to become overwhelming, so she plucks Finn’s bowl from his hand and washes the remnants of her soup into his sink. Finn snorts at her, then goes to sit on his couch, searching for the remote.

“I’m not gonna stay,” Rey says as she turns the water off.

“I know you’re not,” Finn replies. He looks back at her from the living room and smiles. “But it was good to have you over, peanut.”

He lets her gather her things in silence, then waves to her as she makes her way to the door. “See you tomorrow?” she asks.

“I’ll be there,” Finn says with a nod. “I may not be happy about it, and I may sneeze at random times, but I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Rey gives him one last smile, then lets the apartment door swing shut behind her.

She lingers in the hall for a moment, her eyes closed and her breathing slow. It’s dark as she makes her way out of the apartment building, but she doesn’t mind. She pulls her keys out of her pocket and slips them between her fingers, all the while watching the lights of distant apartments twinkle like stars in the sky.

Night in the city took time for her to adjust to. Her home town, and even her conservatory, were out in the middle of nowhere; the stars were never so hard to find as they are now. Streetlights and glowing apartments are her only comfort unless she wants to hitch a ride out of town.

They are, in a way, though, almost better than stars. Rey walks around a corner as catches a glimpse of two children running past a well-lit window some three stories above her head. She smiles. The histories that she’s allowed glimpses of now are more tangible than the immateriality of stars. Here she can imagine lovers, cradling each other on a too-small couch and watching a movie. She imagines a brother and sister doing the dishes after dinner while their aging parents sit at the dining room table, telling stories from their youth and filling the room with laughter. She can imagine her grandfather – no.

No.

Rey’s grandfather, to her knowledge, spent most of his life in this city alone. Rey tightens her grip on her keys and watches as one of the lights above her goes out.

Her apartment, when she arrives, is dark and empty. She drops her things next to the coffee table and half-throws herself down on the couch. The temptation to watch the Great British Baking Show until she falls asleep is great, but she decides against it. Instead, she pulls her laptop into her lap and opens her email. She skims her messages, then clicks over to Youtube. Her recommended videos are full of her grandfather’s face, now, his hair fading from red to gray as the post dates on the videos grows closer.

Some small part of Rey wonders whether or not the Great British Baking Show would be more relaxing than this. Her heart pangs at the sight of wrinkles on her grandfather’s face. Rey bites her lip, then sighs. She doesn’t look when she chooses a video, but lets the mouse go at random.

Her grandfather’s rendition of ‘Edelweiss’ plays through her earbuds, and Rey closes her eyes. The Coruscant orchestra barely audible as her grandfather takes control of the room. It’s not until the song comes to an end that Rey realizes she’s crying.

She sleeps on the couch that night, her feet tucked beneath her in her unwillingness to move. When she wakes, her earbuds are a tangled mess and her computer’s gone dark; her head aches, but otherwise, she’s alright.

When she meets her own gaze in the bathroom mirror, she sees a face that’s too young and eyes that are too red, but that contains her grandfather all the same.

“Do they see you when they look at me?” she wonders, poking at her purple bags. Her reflection offers her no answer.

“I miss you.”

The streets on her way to the Coruscant are mostly empty, the sky a pale yellow-blue above her head. Rey hesitates before climbing the great marble steps up to the front doors. They appear daunting today in a way they never have before. Even on her first day, Rey had been willing to let them roll under her feet.

Today, her back aches, her heart hurts, and her feet hesitate to allow her to climb.

Rey grits her teeth and pushes forward. Her black boots drag mud across the pristine steps, but she doesn’t look back to see it. Her head is heavy with an exhaustion she doesn’t understand, but her footsteps are steady as she makes her way inside.

Luke is waiting for her by the desk in front of the practice rooms, deep in conversation with Poe and with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smiles when he sees her approach and sets one of the cups aside.

“Rey?” she hears him say as she goes in for a hug. “Are you alright?”

“Bad night,” Rey admits.

Luke takes her by the shoulders as she backs away and looks deep into her eyes. “You’re still recovering,” he says. “The coffee will perk you up. Drink it out here and talk with us a while, won’t you? My nephew won’t be here for another fifteen minutes, at least.”

Rey glances at the nearby clock. It is five minutes ‘til nine; by all means, Kylo Ren should be here sooner than later. Then, there’s a warm cup of coffee in her hands, and Rey finds that she doesn’t care.

The three of them chat about meaningless things – the weather, _Carmen_ , a cat Poe’s spotted in the classifieds of the city paper – until Rey’s cup is empty. She throws it in the trash and heads off for a practice room, Poe and Luke’s voices carrying on behind her.

She takes her time with her warm up, and lets the room fill her up with every breath. By the time she’s finished, Rey feels more like herself. She goes to retrieve her scores from her bag and takes a seat near the piano. She cannot play, but the bench allows her to swing her feet up while she waits for Luke and Kylo Ren.

She glances at the clock again. It is ten minutes past the hour.

She’s looking over her notes for ‘Wishing’ when there’s a knock on her door. Rey stands, brushes the hair out of her face, and lets it swing open. Luke is still smiling, but the dark shadow at his side only grimaces.

Rey can’t help herself. “You made it,” she says, a parody of his text from yesterday. Kylo’s grimace slips into a scowl as he enters the room.

“We’ve done a bit of warming up in the other room, so we won’t have to worry about that right now,” Luke tells her. He clears the piano bench for himself and offers her a wink before retrieving his own score. “There are a number of things I want to work on with the both of you, but we only have so much time. Would you be opposed to my emailing you a schedule so we can better coordinate what we’re going to work on?”

Rey and Kylo exchange glances. “No,” Rey says slowly. “But I thought the combined practices were only by request?”

The look Luke gives her would be sympathetic were there less sternness in his gaze. “Because you two are such talented performers,” he says, his voice as patient as ever. “And because you interact so often in this performance, Leia and I agreed that it would be best to have you play off of one another as often as possible.”

Rey’s heart sinks in her chest. She understands _why_ they both think this important, but the prospect of spending her mornings for the next three months in a small room with Kylo-Asshole-Ren is less than appealing. She glances at his face and sees her thoughts mirrored in his frown.

It is, she thinks, far too early for this shit.

Luke looks between the two of them for a moment, and some of the good humor drains from him face. “Look,” he says. “I know you two don’t get along, but we’re determined to make this production work. I’m asking you, please: look past your differences. You’re both some of the best performers of your age. If you cannot come to like one another, you can at least _act_ like you do. Pretend it’s an extended method workshop.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Rey mutters. She catches Luke hide a grin and casts her gaze over to Kylo.

His scowl has not gone away, but there’s something – almost sad brewing in his eyes. “I can try,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Luke looks between the two of them again, then smiles. “I suppose that’s all I can ask for. Now, on to our work for today.”

Rey moves when he motions her forward, then flips through her score until she’s reached the musical’s title number. It’s not until she goes to set the book aside that she realizes her hands are shaking.

Luke gives her two bars, and then, it doesn’t matter anymore.

There’s something about the _Phantom_ ’s title piece that leaves audiences and performers equally excited. The air of the piece settles on her shoulders like early morning mist, and Rey relishes it. She turns to Kylo as her verse comes to an end and, for once, sets aside her grudge as she waits for him to proceed.

He’s staring at her, jaw locked and dark eyes glowing, and Rey nearly misses her final note. He recovers for her well, his entrance more powerful than her aborted finale. She spares a nervous glance towards Luke, but lets the song suck her back in. When she re-enters, she lets her voice mingle with Kylo’s. It’s too controlled to be natural, she knows, and it’s something they’ll have to fix, but the moment carries until they’re building, building, and her knuckles are turning white for the pleasure of it.

Luke cuts her off before her vocal acrobatics at the end, for which Rey would normally be grateful. As the notes from the piano fade, however, she finds herself disappointed.

“Well done,” Luke tells them. “Now, I know you noticed a few things that went wrong, so let’s talk it over before we run it again.”

It is, by far, the most peaceful morning practice Rey thinks she’s ever had, and unquestionably the most peaceful practice wherein Kylo Ren has been present. Naturally, that only spells doom.

It’s just after ten when Luke directs them away from the title piece. With fifty minutes left, he returns them to ‘Point of No Return’. Rey, her chest light and her throat warm, flips through her score without a second thought. When she looks up again, it’s to see Kylo scowling once again. Rey shoots another glance towards Luke, but receives no hint as to what she’s (apparently) done wrong. The frustration she’d managed to put aside threatens to emerge, but she takes a deep breath and wrangles it back under control.

“Now, for this number,” Luke says, turning to Rey. “We’ve discussed the motivation Christine is pulling from, haven’t we? Have you managed to work some of that into your practices with Leia, or have you been focusing on _Carmen_?”

“We’ve not had a chance to run it yet,” Rey admits.

“That’s fine,” Luke says, though Rey hears Kylo snort. “In some ways, that’s better. It means you can build the character here, instead. Kylo, what about you?”

“I’ve run your suggestions by Phasma,” Kylo says.

Luke chuckles. “Good decision. Then you have an idea of what motive you want to get across?”

Kylo hesitates, then nods.

“Good,” Luke says. “Well, then. Four bars to start. One, two, three, four –”

Rey takes a deep breath.

The transformation Christine undergoes between Acts One and Two depends on how the performer wishes to play her. Leia, in her debut, toed the line between fear and anger to the point where Rey wasn’t sure who was in control of the scene: the Phantom or Christine. She was far less seductive, more barely-contained, and the performance gave Rey a satisfaction that she didn’t know she needed.

She makes Christine’s acting obvious as she moves the song forward, leaning towards ‘bad’ but just enough to avoid campy. She steps away from Kylo when he moves to touch her, and when she must take his hands in hers, she touches as little of him as possible.

Their hands are still entwined when Luke calls for them to stop, though one of Rey’s is drifting towards Kylo’s imaginary mask. Rey parts from him immediately, then turns to her mentor.

The look on Luke’s face is less than encouraging.

“Rey,” he says, and Rey stiffens at his tone. “Why don’t you explain where you’re coming from with this?”

Rey steadies her breathing, does _not_ look at Kylo, and then proceeds. “If we’re thinking that they’re using each other,” she says, “then Christine is used to being in a position of control. Here, _she’s_ being used as bait. _She’s_ been betrayed by someone she thought she could trust. If I were her, I’d be furious.”

“So when you have her acting, it comes off as stilted,” Luke nods. “I can see where you’d get that idea.”

Rey resists the urge to bristle, unsure whether it’s character bleed that’s make her uncomfortable or something else entirely.

“Kylo,” Luke says, as he turns away. “Share your motivation, please.”

Rey looks back at him and sees him start to squirm.

“The Phantom’s motives are confused,” he says. “On one hand, he’s pissed, too. On the other –” His ears, Rey notices, are bright red. “On the other, he’s on stage with the woman he’s fallen in love with, and that, for him, is almost as good as being accepted. Even if she’s acting – which he really shouldn’t be able to tell that she is –” he throws a pointed look at Rey, “it’s something good for him.”

“So you have to work to balance that,” Luke agrees. “You play it well, and I think that, once we’re on stage, you’ll be able to do even more.”

Something’s burning in Rey’s stomach that she doesn’t want to address, sharp and bitter, like jealousy. She looks between Luke and Kylo Ren and feels – almost out of the loop. It hurts, even though it shouldn’t, though it’s more a blow to her pride than anything else.

There’s a weight, heavy and brick-like, that falls onto her shoulders.

“So I need to rework my motivation?” she asks, and winces at her tone.

Luke turns to her, one eyebrow raised. He hesitates before he speaks. “I think you two need to work together in order to make the piece cohesive,” he says. “Rey, you must balance the anger Christine feels with her other emotions. She is as complicated as the rest of these characters, and reducing her in any way will take from the performance.”

Rey blinks hard. She works to control her temper, then glances at the clock. Luke follows her gaze and sucks in a breath between his teeth.

“I think that’s all we’ll do today,” he says. “Well done, the both of you. Try to schedule some time to work on your pieces and let me know about it. I think there’s a lot of potential here; we just have wiggle it out.”

He packs up his things and leaves the room before Rey has a moment to pull herself together. The practice room door opens and closes with a quiet click.

The silence in the room becomes deafening. Rey turns away from her companion and focuses on her things. She drops her pencil as she goes to pluck it from the stand and curses under her breath.

Kylo’s standing stock still when she glances at him, with his music still on his stand.

“Are you going to stay in here?”

Kylo glances down at her; it looks, for a moment, like he’d forgotten she was there. “No,” he says. “Unless you want to have that individual practice now.”

There’s something smug in his tone that only makes the fire in her stomach worse. Rey scowls at him and turns her attention back to her things.

“My uncle is right, you know,” Kylo says. “You’re letting your own emotions get in the way of the character’s. It’s going to damage your performance if you can’t control it.”

“Yes, thank you,” Rey snaps. “I’ll be sure to work on that soon.”

“It’s a problem your grandfather had, too.”

Rey feels her heartbeat go still. She’s slow as she rises, her bag weightless as she goes to sling it over her shoulder. “Come again?”

Kylo, for a moment, looks genuinely confused. “Your grandfather,” he says, awkwardly clearing his throat. “He let his emotions get away from him, too.”

“Just like your mother,” Rey says.

Kylo’s eyes narrow. “Yes. Just like my mother.”

Rey feels something in her chest snap. She closes her eyes and tries to breathe, but the air in the practice room has grown thick and soggy. When she opens her eyes again, her hands have curled into fists and she’s moved, crowding into the space Kylo Ren threatens to overtake.

“Look,” she says, her voice soft and flat. “I get that you’re older, and that you think you know everything, but you are in no position to critique my grandfather. Your grandfather was no saint, either; from what I remember, didn’t he have a solid go at your grandmother?”

Kylo’s face goes dark. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rey says with a laugh. “Does it bother you to hear him insulted? I can’t imagine why someone would be hurt to hear something like that; it just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up,” Kylo says, his voice working into a snarl. “Shut up _right now_.”

“You know, I don’t think I will.” Her hands make their way up to the scarf dangling around Kylo’s neck and stroke it like it’s a well behaved dog. “Is that what makes you so ready to insult me, Kylo? Are you afraid that you’ll turn out like your grandfather?”

“It’d be an honor to be like him,” Kylo snaps, but his body has gone still.

Rey chuckles, low and soft. “Of course it would.” The urge to smack him has never been stronger. “But maybe that’s why you do it, hm? You’re afraid.” Her hand tightens around the fabric, which in turn tightens around his throat. Rey is reward with a sound that is almost like a choke.

“You’re afraid you’ll never be worthy of your grandfather.”

It’s a less satisfying revelation than she’d imagined. She lets his scarf drop, and only his ragged breathing clues her in to how tightly she’d been holding the fabric. Rey brushes the lint from her hands and turns her back to him, her own breaths measured and slow.

“Delete my number from your phone, Kylo,” she says, her voice terrible and cold. “If I want to get in touch with you in the future, I will, but for now: leave me alone. I’m not going to deal with a fucking _child_ who has to dick around with other people’s worth in order to validate his own.”

Without a glance backward, she makes her way out of the practice room. The soundproof glass door slams shut behind her.

Kylo Ren does not follow her.

Rey storms past the practice room, her face taut with rage and tears. She hears Poe call her name but doesn’t turn around, walking past her fellow cast mates until she can see the sun shining through the lobby’s front windows.

Rey pushes through the gilded front doors and walks out of the Coruscant. She takes the marble steps two at a time, then walks, walks until the theater has disappeared into the distance.

When her legs finally grow tired, Rey leans up against the side of a red brick building and tries to sort out the thoughts in her head. There’s a text message on her phone, but she doesn’t look at it; she doesn’t want to know who it’s from, or what it’s about. She’s not ready to deal with other people just yet.

Rey runs through a series of breathing exercises until her heart rate has slowed. The quiet soothes her. She leans her head back against the brick and closes her eyes, sifting through her thoughts like sand.

She knows, objectively, that both Kylo Ren and Luke are correct in their assessments of her performance. Her stomach clenches at the thought, but Rey forces herself to breathe. Giving Kylo Ren what he wants, either in her emotional reaction or her lacking performance, is not an option; she will not let some stuffed up, legacied _brat_ tell her what she is and is not capable of. Something comes up and settles itself in her throat; it is painful and hot and brings tears to Rey’s eyes. She sinks down to the sidewalk and lets out a sob.

“Kenobi?”

Rey opens her eyes and wipes her tears from her cheeks. She looks up and sees Phasma standing over her, her face a mask of neutral concern. Rey offers her a weak smile, but it’s quick to fall away.

Phasma looks her over, from her red eyes to her crumpled form, and sighs. She hesitates for a moment before lowering herself onto the sidewalk, rocking forward the balls of her feet so her pressed khakis don’t touch the ground. “I see he got to you,” she says, her voice still carefully flat.

Rey laughs. It’s a wet, terrible thing. “It’s not just him,” she says, wiping another tear away. “It’s – it’s a lot of things, honestly.”

Phasma grimaces, then rocks on her feet again. “You want to talk about it?”

Rey sniffles, then giggles at Phasma’s distasteful look. “Not here,” she says, pushing herself off of the ground. “Do you have time to go get lunch?”

Phasma glances at her silver watch, then offers Rey a shrug. “I’m sure they won’t miss me if I stay out a while longer.” She straightens herself up, then holds out her hand. Rey takes it and hauls herself up. The two women walk down the street until they come to a burger shop, where Rey commandeers a booth and Phasma orders them both Long Island Ice Teas. Rey sips hers through a straw and doesn’t complain when heat streaks down the back of her throat.

“I keep thinking about my grandfather,” she admits when her glass is half full. “Kylo mentioned him today, but he’s been on my mind for a while. I got angry today.” She focuses in on the depths of her drink. “And Luke and Kylo told me so. They’re not wrong, and I know they’re not, but – I don’t know how to stop it. I look at him, and I see all the doubts I’ve been trying to ignore for the past four years.”

Phasma hums around her straw. “He has that effect on everyone.”

“But I shouldn’t fall for it,” Rey grumbles. “I should be better than that.”

“Well, now you just sound like him.” Rey looks up and sees the hints of Phasma’s smile. The taller woman adjusts herself in her seat and takes a long pull of her iced tea. “The projecting you can fix quickly,” she says. “The doubt will take more time.”

“I know,” Rey says softly. She laces her fingers together, then just as quickly unlaces them. “It’s just...I see him everywhere in here.”

She’s too busy taking a sip of her own drink to see Phasma raise an eyebrow. “‘Him’? You don’t mean Kylo, do you?”

“Well, to some degree.” Rey almost laughs. “But no. I mean my grandfather. It’s hard, sometimes - I love it here, I really do, but it feels like he’s always...following me around. It’s like I’ll never be Rey, but always Rey _Kenobi_. And it doesn’t help that Kylo keeps bringing it up.”

“I imagine it wouldn’t,” Phasma says with a nod. Rey glances at her, but the soprano’s face remains impassive.

“Sorry,” she says, looking back at her drink again.

Phasma doesn’t say anything for a moment. Rey peeks up and catches her frowning into the distance, all the while chewing on her bottom lip. After a moment, Phasma shrugs.

“You really do sound like Kylo,” she says, and it’s enough to break the awkwardness that’s settled between them. Rey throws her straw wrapper in Phasma’s direction while the other woman fights back a smile.

“Look,” she says, batting the straw wrapper away. “Your grandfather trained his grandfather, right? And now both of you have these ghosts lingering over your shoulders. You handle it better than he does, there’s no denying that, but I’m still tempted to hire an exorcist and rid you of this hokey nonsense.”

The weight in Rey’s chest lifts as she laughs. “I’m not sure if that’s what I want,” she admits. “But a break from it all would be nice. A break from Kylo would be phenomenal.”

To her surprise, the not-quite smile on Phasma’s face grows. She finishes the last of her Long Island with a satisfied slurp, then leans back in the booth. “I can’t say I don’t know where the kid’s coming from,” she says. “I spent too much time with him to suggest otherwise. But even I get sick of him sometimes. She pushes her empty glass and unfolds herself from the too-small booth. “Come on, K – Rey,” she says, jerking her head towards the door. “They’re going to need us for practice in half an hour.”

Rey glances up at the clock and swears under her breath. She’s a little unsteady on her feet when she stands, but Phasma lets her grip her arm to steady herself.

“We can stop at an In and Out if you need a granola bar,” Phasma says. “If you stumble into a car, though, I’m not taking you to the hospital.”

Rey laughs, despite herself. “You would, though.”

Phasma glances down at her with a smirk, but doesn’t reply. She stays right by Rey’s side as they walk back to the theater, her strides long but completely in control. Rey stumbles once, but otherwise doesn’t hurry to keep up with her.

She pulls out her phone once the Coruscant comes into view. There’s a message from Finn – she was supposed to meet him for lunch; she’ll have to apologize later. There are two other messages, as well, but Rey refuses to look at them.

A strange feeling settles in her chest, resting alongside a sliver of guilt she’s doing her best to ignore.

“You know,” Phasma says, as they start to climb the steps. “We can collaborate again, if you want to do some character workshopping. There’s a headspace I get into for _Carmen_ that may help you make your performance more complex. Only if you’re interested, though.”

Rey glances up, surprised. “I’d appreciate that,” she says, tucking her phone away. “Would you want to do that soon?”

“It’d be better for your practices if we did,” Phasma snorts. “I’m free after rehearsal tonight; if you’re up for staying late, we could have you fixed up by tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Rey says with a nod. She hesitates as the two of them go to part ways. “Phasma?”

The taller woman glances at her once more, her face once again schooled into neutral disdain.

“Thank you,” Rey says. Her voice is steady for the first time in an hour, and it feels good to speak normally again. “I really appreciate – hanging out with you, I suppose.”

The corner of Phasma’s mouth twitches, but otherwise, her expression remains the same. “It’s nothing,” she shrugs. Then, with quick steps, she makes her way to the back of the house, turning the corner without another word. Rey watches her go, then starts for the practice rooms alone.

She sends an apology text to Finn while she walks, swerving past a flock of performers in the too-narrow halls. The unread messages blink at her, but Rey doesn’t open them. Instead, she silences her phone and walks towards the practice rooms.

Poe is no longer in his seat, but is instead staring at his phone with a thin mouth and a worried gaze. When Rey pushes through the door, his head flies up.

“You’re going to tell me what happened,” he says, moving to pull her in for a hug. Rey freezes as his arms wrap around her, and it takes her a moment to hug him back. He’s gone in a moment, though, dancing back behind his desk to fetch her a set of keys.  “Or you’re at least going to tell Finn,” he says, “because he’s been texting me for the better part of an hour.”

“Like you minded,” Rey says, rolling her eyes. “I’ll tell you both later, when I’m _not_ going to be late to practice.”

The sound of Poe’s tsking follows her into the practice room, and Rey can’t help but smile. She takes her time with her warm up, meeting her red-eyed gaze in the mirror and refusing to falter. There’s a flickering of her grandfather in the curl of her notes, but she ignores it, settling herself in the moment and in the crispness of the air in her lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *considers adding "Light BDSM themes" to the tags* ....nah. I'll kinkshame Kylo Ren from a distance ;)
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	10. Chapter 09

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the first lines of the letter are penned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On one hand, I'm ecstatic to bring you folks this chapter. On the other...Carrie Fisher. Fucking hell, this has been a hard year. Sending love to those of you who need it. I hope this (strange, adventurous, progress-filled) chapter can cheer you up, if only a little. 
> 
> Additionally: kudos to @sophiascribbling for the assistance with this chapter, but also to @flamingcabbage, as they reminded me that a person cannot actually survive on alcohol and caffeine alone. And by "person", I mean the characters, not just me ;)
> 
> XOXO

Their run through of _Carmen_ ’s first and second acts goes well, that afternoon. Rey alternates her time between the stage and the wings, watching as Coruscant’s ballet corps takes control of the stage. Her role as Micaela is small, but she doesn’t mind. Christine Daae weighs heavily enough on her mind that she’ll take what breaks she can get.

Practice ends just before five. Marsha sends the cast off with schedule reminders and a fond smile while Luke lingers behind her, scribbling into his oversized notepad. Rey meets Marsha’s gaze as she goes and smiles, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she walks out of the auditorium. She settles herself against one of the lobby’s supporting pillars in order to wait for Phasma – it’s likely that Luke has some notes for her, even if Marsha doesn’t.

The urge to reach for her phone, just to pass the time, makes her fingers twitch, but Rey manages to resist. She hasn’t checked her messages since...well, _that_ , and frankly, she’s too scared to look just yet. Her text alerts have been muted, as well, so if something new has come, she remains blissfully (or not so blissfully) unaware of it.

It might not be the best coping mechanism, but it’s the one she’s going to hold on to.

Rey is startled from her thoughts when Phasma appears. The taller woman offers her something that’s not quite a smile, but that seems friendly, nonetheless. “So,” she says, without preamble. “Do you want to stay here, or would you prefer to run this somewhere else?”

“Did you have another place in mind?” Rey asks.

Phasma shrugs. “It would be more practical to work here if you actually wanted to sing,” she says. “Soundproofing is good, no matter how good a singer is. Talking, however, can be done anywhere, and I don’t know about you, but I _really_ need a drink.”

Rey considers, for a moment. The water bottle tucked into her bag is almost empty – alcohol dehydrates, as does caffeine, and she knows her voice will suffer for it if she doesn’t compensate. The opera house has fountains stationed all over the place, and Leia has warned her away from drinking anything _but_ water during her hours in the house.

All the same, her nerves are fried. “You aren’t the only one,” Rey says with a sigh. “I’m gonna develop a rash if I stay here any longer, and that will not be pretty.”

It’s not quite a joke, but it makes Phasma’s lips twitch upward into a smile. She motions towards the lobby’s grand entry doors. “After you, then.”

Rey leads the way out of the Coruscant, holding open the door for Phasma and then trailing behind. She watches as the setting sun streaks through the taller woman’s hair, dancing around her but never quite touching her. She fits in well with the chromes and the silvers of the city, Rey decides; reflective, perhaps. Rey, on the other hand, absorbs the dying sunlight like a particularly sleepy cat.

Phasma takes them to a bar several blocks away from the theater, better to avoid the post-work crowd. It’s a little shadier than the places Rey prefers to go, but Phasma settles into one of the booths like she owns it. She nods to the bartender and makes familiar conversation with the waiter who comes to serve them.

“I’ve got first round,” Rey murmurs, not wanting to cut in. Phasma glances at her and nods. She orders a whisky on the rocks, while Rey (begrudgingly) orders a glass of water.

When their drinks arrive, they get down to business.

“Tell me exactly what you told Luke,” Phasma orders, taking her glass in hand. “Once we’ve got that figured out, we can move forward.”

Rey takes a sip of her water, swallows, and does her best to explain.

Phasma listens without interruption, without moving, save for a particularly violent blink and the occasional sigh. When Rey finishes, the air around them becomes overwhelmed with silence. It makes Rey want to twitch, but she holds herself as still as possible as she waits for Phasma to speak.

“You’ve taken on an interesting interpretation,” Phasma says, after a minute or so. “I think it will surprise people, but I also think they’ll like it.”

Rey breathes at last, then reaches for her glass. “That’s – that’s good?”

“It would be,” Phasma says. “But I think you’re forgetting something pretty crucial.”

“Oh?”

The twinkle in Phasma’s eye is almost frightening. “You do remember that you have to kiss the Phantom before the show ends, right?”

Rey blinks. Her glass falls back onto the table – it does not spill, but only because she’s drained so much of it already.

“Of course I didn’t forget,” she insists, looking anywhere but Phasma’s face. “That’s – that’s absurd! How could I forget?!”

Phasma says nothing, only smirks.

Rey’s at a loss for words. She _knew_ , objectively, that she’d have to kiss whoever played opposite her. She has to kiss Finn, anyway, though that’s significantly less weird than anyone else she could have partnered. The prospect of kissing Kylo Ren, however – it leaves a lump in her throat the size of a baseball. Rey’s horrified to realize that there’s no disgust behind her indignation, only a sense of misplaced pride – and fear. A healthy, slightly overwhelming dose of fear.

Some of it must show on her face, because Phasma decides to take pity on her. “I think that, in some aspects, Kylo and Luke were right,” she says. “You’re looking at this from too personal a perspective. You’re welcome to keep Christine’s emotions in mind, but you have to remember: in the end, she feels _something_ for the man beneath the mask.”

“It’s a twisted relationship,” Rey mutters, looking at her hands.

“Of course it is.” Phasma shrugs. “It’s unhealthy and has been romanticized to shit, but that’s why people love it. The opportunity for unforgivable darkness to be cured is appealing.”

Rey grunts, but doesn’t reply. She finishes off the last of her water, then waves the nearest waiter over to her side. She orders a glass of wine and waits until he’s poured it to even try and respond.

“The way we have things so far,” she says, at last, “it’s as though Christine and the Phantom are using each other. The Phantom is still in control, of course, because he’s got an emotional hold on her, but Christine is getting something out of the relationship, too – it’s an innocent manipulation that I don’t think she really understands.”

Phasma nods.

“But,” Rey continues, “that gets betrayed when she runs off with Raoul – do you think she even knows how badly the Phantom’s hurting, after? I’m not sure if she’d really care.”

“Objectively, I think she wouldn’t,” Phasma says. “But remember: in ‘Masquerade’, she’s still aware of how much influence he has over her life. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be so afraid to announce her engagement.”

“She’s gone against their ‘contract’, I suppose,” Rey says with a shrug. “But she’s angry and brave enough to break it in the first place – so where does that leave me come the end?”

“I’m not sure,” Phasma shrugs. The waiter appears again, this time with a water. Phasma takes it from her without removing her gaze from Rey. “Let’s try this: do you think that Christine loves the Phantom or not?”

Rey bites her lip.

It’s a strange thought, that the greatest love story of all time may not be a love story at all.

She goes to speak again, but a hand comes down on her shoulder. Rey goes still as she looks back into the face of man she does not recognize.

“Can I help you?” she asks, one eyebrow raised. She sees Phasma tense out of the corner of her eye.

“I think you can,” the man says. Someone shifts just behind him, and another man steps into view. “My name’s Fett. I’ve lost my friend’s phone number, and I was wondering: could I have yours, instead?”

Rey forces a chuckle. “I’m sorry,” she says, gently shrugging his hand off of her shoulder. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m not interested.”

Something flickers in Fett’s eye. He glances over to Phasma, then back to Rey. The smile on his face turns a bit cruel.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says. “Your girlfriend if welcome to hang with us, if she wants to. We know how to have a good time.”

Rey blinks, hard, and hears Phasma snort. “I’m not her girlfriend,” she says, her voice echoing through the bar. “But neither of us are interested. Buzz off.”

Fett’s smile fades. “Now, wait a minute,” he says. “We were perfectly polite to you. The least you could do is let us sit with you.”

“Your courtesy doesn’t obligate us to do anything,” Phasma says. Rey glances back at her and sees the thunderstorm that her face has become. Phasma takes a twenty from her wallet and throws it on the table, then slowly rises to her feet. The two men take a step back as she reaches her full height, but they do not retreat.

Rey skirts away from them and moves to stand at Phasma’s side. Fett’s friend steps forward, though, and secures a grip on Phasma’s arm. “Hold on, now!”

The whole of the bar seems to freeze. Rey breathes in and is overcome by the smell of alcohol and sweat clinging to her skin. She sees Phasma’s eyes narrow to slits.

For a moment, she almost wants to laugh.

There’s an audible snap as Phasma removes the man’s hand from her arm, then another as she whips it behind his back. Fett reaches out and tries to take Rey by the arm, either as collateral or to make his escape. Rey slips out of range, then ducks back in to deliver a kick to his shin. She stomps on his foot and leaves him hopping in place as she moves over to Phasma’s side.

Phasma has her attacker bent over the nearest table with his arm nearly wrenched for its socket. “Listen here,” she says as she tightens her grip. “When a lady says no, she means no. Do you understand?”

The man whimpers and nods his head.

Rey hears something shuffling behind her. Phasma’s eyes go wide.

Rey turns in time to see Fett lunge forward, his meaty fists aimed for her face. She dodges, and he goes stumbling into Phasma, knocking the wind out of her as she stumbles off of his friend. Rey chases after him and grabs the back of his shirt, then follows up by grabbing his hair. It’s greasy and slick, but she holds on and pulls, and is rewarded with a tremendous shout.

Fett takes one of Phasma’s elbows to his face while his friend goes running. Something that sounds suspiciously like a beer bottle crashes somewhere behind Rey’s head; when she glances up, she sees the Fett’s friend ducking out of the circle of patrons that’s formed around them. Phasma, still unaware, sends Fett slamming into the crowd. He glowers at her, then at Rey, and spits blood out of his mouth.

Rey takes stock of her own wounds, then glances over to Phasma. Her pale skin is marred by blood, but it doesn’t look like she’s noticed. Her pupils are blown out and her mouth is hanging open in a large, toothy smile.

Fett hesitates a moment longer. Then, he charges.

Phasma and Rey work in tandem. They both move to the side, then push Fett into the other side of the pit. There’s a shout from someone in the crowd as the Fett’s fist makes contact with Rey’s cheek. Phasma tackles him and slams him into the ground, digging her knees into the bulk of his chest. He rolls her over, but then takes a blow from Rey’s foot with his teeth. Rey reaches down and helps haul Phasma to her feet.

“You alright?”

Phasma nods and wipes blood from her mouth.

“Let’s get out of here,” Rey suggests. Her back is killing her, and she feels like she’s bleeding from _somewhere_ , but her voice is steady. Phasma looks back at Fett and the crowd with something almost like longing, but after a moment, she nods.

The two women slip out of the bar just as the crowd turns on itself. A window shatters behind them as they jog down the street and is followed by a string of shouting. It’s not until they’re a good five blocks away that the sounds of the fight start to fade.

“So,” Rey says, once she’s had a moment to catch her breath. “That was a good talk, I think.”

Phasma’s laugh is more of a bark, but her eyes are shining. She brings a hand to her lip and pulls it away with blood staining her skin.

“Yeah, you’ve got some on your head, too,” Rey grimaces. “Come back with me to my place. It’s closer, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got some bandages there.”

“I’ll be fine,” Phasma says, but she lets Rey guide her along anyway. A cop car goes flying past, but neither woman pays it any mind. Rey cracks a grin as they carry on down the street.

“You know,” she says, as nonchalant as one can be. “That wasn’t actually my first bar fight.”

This earns another barking laugh from Phasma. “You won’t be surprised,” she says. “But it wasn’t mine, either.”

They take the steps up to Rey’s apartment slowly. Phasma keeps her eyes peeled and her shoulders tense as they make their way down the hall. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen these apartments before,” she says, her tone deceptively light.

“I think it’s mostly students who live here,” Rey shrugs. She pats her pockets and is quick to locate her keys. “The rent’s reasonable, though, and the wifi is cheap, so I can’t complain.”

Phasma hums, but says nothing more. They stumble into Rey’s apartment together, bleeding and tired, but all in one piece.

Rey shoos Phasma over to her couch as she heads for the bathroom. She has an impromptu first aid kit stored in the towel closet that she struggles to fish down, but after one or two jumps, she manages. She grabs a few washcloths on the way down, then balances it all as she makes her way back to the living room.

Phasma is texting someone when she arrives, but she’s quick to set her phone aside. Rey winces as she gets a better look at the bruise forming on Phasma’s cheek.

“Okay,” she says, sitting down beside her. “I have some antiseptic and bandages. I don’t know if I can do anything about the bruising, though.”

“Green concealer,” Phasma grumbles. “I’ll have to pick some up on my way home; haven’t used it in a while.”

Rey lifts an eyebrow. Phasma looks back at her phone and almost smiles. “You know how we don’t get paid unless we’re performing?”

“Yeah?”

“It was like that with the First Order, too. I didn’t get as much stage time there as I do with the Coruscant, though, so my rent was always a little short. But then,” she chuckles, low and dark. “I found this fight club. For a while, I just went down there and placed bets on the fighters, played the system a bit. One of the bosses called me out and told me I could either get in the ring or get the hell out. I was living off of protein bars and tap water, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“What happened?” Rey asks, her voice hushed.

Phasma grins. “I sent the first guy I ever fought to the hospital. The boss paid me a hundred bucks and invited me to come back again.”

The laugh that leaves Rey’s chest feels like it’s been punched out of her. She bunches up a washcloth in her hands, then moves to poke at Phasma’s face.

“It’s not that weird,” Phasma says, reading the expression Rey thought she’d tucked away. “I needed to feed myself, and that was one way to do it. One of the better ways, if you ask me.”

“Better way, yeah, but maybe not the best,” Rey says with a frown. She wipes some of the blood off of Phasma’s brow, then grimaces as Phasma starts looking for her phone. “Who are you texting?”

“Hux,” Phasma says. “He’ll be by in a little while to pick me up.”

“I see.” She doesn’t know Hux all that well, but she’s supposes that’s a good thing. “Did you tell him what happened?”

She pulls her washcloth away in time to see Phasma smirk. “I may have exaggerated things a bit.”

Rey snorts. “Of course you did.”

“Let me have my fun.” Phasma leans back on Rey’s couch with a cocksure air that tells Rey she’s done this before.

“Like I could stop you.” Rey pauses, then clears her throat. “Did he…know about the fighting you did when you were with the First Order?”

“He may have had an idea, yes, but I never told him.” Rey sees Phasma shrug. “The only one who really knew was Ren.”

Rey’s breath catches in her chest. Phasma catches her surprised look and shrugs again. “He had to pick me up from the hospital one night,” she says. “There was this girl – slip of a thing, a little bit like you – she broke my arm. I couldn’t get myself home, and the doctors wouldn’t let me leave. I lied and told them that Ren was my brother in order to get them to let me go.” She chuckles, but it’s a sad thing. “After that, I couldn’t go on stage for a good month. Without the fighting _and_ without the work, making rent was nearly impossible.”

“What did you do?” Rey asks.

Phasma sighs. “You ask a lot of questions,” she says. “Leia bought us out of our contracts pretty quickly after that. Good timing, really. She even gave me an advance so I could pay my rent.” She looks out the window with a thoughtful frown. “I kind of owe her, I guess.”

Rey sees her lips thin into a line, and her heart pangs in her chest. Before she can open her mouth to speak again, Phasma’s phone buzzes.

“Hux is here,” Phasma says, without looking at her phone. “What apartment number is this?”

“2871,” Rey says. She shifts and starts to put her medical supplies away. She’s just returning from the closet when she hears a knock on her door.

“Can you get that?” Phasma asks, and Rey is almost surprised to see a twinkle in her eye. “I may or may not have told Hux I broke my leg.”

“You’re terrible,” Rey says. She sees a genuine smile play itself out over Phasma’s face as she starts to turn away.

There’s another knock on the door, this one more impatient than the last. Rey schools her face into a semblance of concern, takes a deep breath, and turns the knob.

She opens it expecting to see only the ginger man she’s met in passing. Instead, she’s greeted by both him and one Kylo Ren. They tower over her with equal expression of concern and leave her feeling just wrong footed enough to go stumbling backwards. Kylo’s brow immediately furrows with his frown, but Hux wastes no time in moving into the apartment.

“Phasma?” he calls.

“Hux.” Phasma waves at him from the couch. Rey moves towards her without turning away from the door, glancing back only to avoid tripping over the coffee table. “You brought Ren,” Phasma adds, one pale eyebrow raised. “Why, exactly?”

“Because you’ve broken your leg,” Hux snaps. He kneels down at Phasma’s side and pokes the offending appendage. “I thought you’d put your fighting behind you.”

“It couldn’t really be avoided,” Rey says, once she’s found her voice. “Some assholes weren’t taking no for an answer.”

Something shuts down in Hux’s face. Rey starts; Kylo’s moved into the room now, too, and his hands are curled into fists. “What do you mean?” he growls. “Did they hurt you?”

It takes Rey a moment to realize he’s talking to her and not Phasma, because of course Phasma’s hurt; she’s tied up with a ‘broken leg’.

“What? No.” She shakes her head. “Well, I mean, kind of, but it’s nothing serious.”

Kylo doesn’t look convinced. He moves, as though he wants to step towards her, but stops when Phasma clears her throat.

“I haven’t actually broken my leg,” she announces, then has the grace to look almost chagrin.

The silence that fills the room is one part amused (Phasma) and three parts overwhelming awkward (everyone else). Then Hux throws his hands up in the air. “I’m going back to the car,” he says, directing his words towards Kylo. “If you want to handle her, do so at your leisure. Or leave her here. I don’t care.”

He leaves Kylo standing between the two women and slams the door behind him. Some of the tension drains out of the room as the silence is peppered with Rey’s silent giggles. Kylo shoots her a look of utter disdain before moving to Phasma’s side, his large hands hovering over her shoulders.

“Oh, don’t fuss, Ren,” Phasma says. She stretches out, then stands, pointing her toes as she does. “I’ve had much, much worse.”

“I know you have,” Kylo grumbles. “I was there.”

The smile Phasma throws him is dripping with sugar. She picks up her wallet from Rey’s coffee table and softens, just slightly. “Thank you,” she says to Rey. “I had fun tonight.”

“I think I did, too,” Rey says with a grin. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

She glances at Kylo quickly enough to see him smack his forehead with his palm. Phasma grins at her before moving towards the door. “Coming, Kylo?”

“In a moment.” He drags his hand away from his face and _looks_ at Rey, really looks at her, to the point where she starts to feel uncomfortable. Only when she shuffles does he bother to look away.

“Have you checked your phone?” he asks, careful to keep his voice low.

Rey feels her cheeks start to burn. “I haven’t,” she admits. “I didn’t – I was really unprofessional, and I understand if you’re going to have me written up or –”

“Enough,” Kylo holds up his hand. “Rey, check your phone.” His mouth twitches, and it takes Rey a moment to realize that he looks...sheepish.

He seems to be waiting for her, so she reaches for her purse and pulls out her phone. There’s a missed call from Finn, but she saves it for later. Instead, she looks at her messages.

<< Unknown Number:

You didn’t cause any property damage, so I can safely say that I’ve had far worse reactions. >>

<< Unknown Number:

I’m sorry. >>

Rey looks back up, a corner of her mouth quirked and an eyebrow raised. Kylo makes a point of not looking at her.

“I did cause property damage today, though,” she says. “Just…not around you.”

“I wasn’t involved in that misadventure,” Kylo says with a shrug, “so it’s a little less my problem.” The tinge of amusement in his voice almost makes Rey uncomfortable, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

“Then I may have to make more problems for you,” she says, stuffing her hands into her pockets and wincing as her bruised knuckles drag on the denim. “Get you more involved.”

It’s not an apology, but then again, she doesn’t think he deserves one. All the same, Rey feels something lighten in her chest when she sees him hide a smile.

Phasma peeks her head in from the hallway and looks between the both of them. “Kylo,” she calls. “Are you coming? Hux is threatening to drive away.”

The moment breaks. Kylo starts, then turns towards the door, the tops of his ears turning bright red. “I’m coming,” he grumbles. Then he looks back at Rey. “I’ll…see you tomorrow?”

Rey nods. “We can try again, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kylo nods.

From the doorway, Phasma rolls her eyes. “Come _on_ , Ren.”

Kylo turns and strolls out of Rey’s apartment, his long legs carrying him into the hall before Rey has a chance to blink. Phasma waves at her again before she closes the door.

Rey stays on her feet for one moment longer, then collapses onto the couch. She stays there, staring at the ceiling, until her body stops hurting and her head straightens out. Only then does she reach for her phone. She swipes out of the message Kylo has sent her, then goes to listen to the message from Finn.

“Hey, Rey. Poe and I are going to dinner and wanted to know if you wanted to come along. I’m guessing that, because you’re not answering your phone, you’re busy, but call me back when you’re free!”

There’s a hint of laughter in the background that must belong to Poe. Rey smiles and saves the message, then sends a text in reply.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Sorry, was workshopping with Phasma. How did dinner go? >>

<< Finn Trooper:

It went really well! We got pizza and ended up going to a jazz bar afterward. Lots of fun! Let us know your plans next time, it wasn’t the same without you. >>

Rey smiles, then sets her phone aside.

*

It takes two weeks for the bruising on her face to fade from mottled purple to a sick sort of yellow. Rey takes to dividing her days at the Coruscant between Leia, Luke, and _Carmen_ , as group practices for _Phantom_ are significantly reduced to make room for the upcoming show. Her encounters with Kylo lessen, until it’s rare for her to see him at all.

Her costume fitting for _Carmen_ is her only real blip of discomfort – the look the costume mistress gives her when she sees the bruises on her back blows past concerned and into alarmed. When Rey sees Leia later that same day, she’s politely questioned about her neighbors, friends, and potential romantic partners as the lady of the house tries to figure out who exactly has been bruising up her protégé.

“It’s nothing,” Rey explains, as gently as she can. “There was a little mishap, but I haven’t had any trouble since.”

“I should hope not.” The look in Leia’s eyes is almost familiar: it is protective in a way Rey has seen before. It fills her heart with warmth, even as she reassures Leia further. When she leaves the Coruscant that day, it’s with a spring in her step.

 _Carmen_ premieres on a Saturday, which means the Coruscant is packed with couples, families, grandparents – theater buffs of all ages who could manage to find themselves a ticket. Rey waits in the wings alongside Phasma and subtly adjusts her dress. Her bruising has faded down and is hardly noticeable anymore, but Phasma had helped her hide what remained before the show. She holds her breath and tries not to drown in her sweat as the stage lights flare.

The overture ends. Rey steps aside as her cast mates go running.

“Nervous?” she asks, careful to keep her voice soft.

Phasma adjusts the shawl around her shoulders and gives Rey a withering looking. “Are you?”

The two women smirk at each other. Then, on her cue, Rey makes her way out onto the stage. She and Phasma move past each other frequently throughout the opera, never making eye contact, but frequently smiling.

Finn is waiting for her in the wings after the curtain finally falls. Rey runs for him when she sees him and throws her arms around his neck, still wearing her gown. Finn catches her and swings her around, then presses a kiss to her forehead. When she’s back on her feet, Rey sees Poe make his way out of the shadow of the curtains.

“You both came!” she says, offering Poe a little wave. She links both of her arms with theirs and drags them further back stage.

“Of course we did,” Finn says. “ _Carmen_ is one of Poe’s favorite operas, did you know? We knew you were performing, so we decided, what the hey, let’s go together.”

Rey glances over at Poe and sees a light flush carry onto his face. She lifts an eyebrow, but her smile remains. “I had no idea,” she says, just to watch him squirm. “You must have enjoyed listening to me practice all these weeks.”

“I always enjoy listening to you,” Poe insists, but Rey sees his flush grow brighter. She takes pity on him for a moment and changes the subject, asking after her performance and what she needs to fix. After they insist that she was perfect, she shoos them away to wait in the lobby while she gets changed. When she emerges, in jeans and socks and a bra that actually fits, they make their way to the front of the house.

It’s a good night for all of them. Finn and Poe take her out to the burger joint down the road and buy milkshakes while telling her bad jokes. Finn ends up telling them both the story of his first performance – he’d been cast in a version of Mozart’s _Winter’s Tale_ and had spent the two hours before the performance with his head in a trashcan. Rey laughs, even though she’s heard it before and been there herself; Poe looks reluctant to join in, but can’t help himself, in the end. They leave the restaurant shortly after midnight and lean on each other as they head towards their separate homes.

Rey is dropped off first, even though her apartment is the furthest away. She waves at her boys from the top of her staircase until she can no longer separate them; they become a dark blob with their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. Something stirs in her chest that feels – not quite sad – but she pushes it down and ignores it.

She enters her apartment alone and tries not to sigh. Sleep comes no easier for her, despite the pleasant night, but Rey tries.

Daisy takes her role during the Sunday matinee, so Rey spends a day curled up in her apartment. She stays in her pajamas until it’s far past noon and spends her time alternating between her laptop, television, and phone. At some point in the middle of the afternoon, she pulls out her score for _Phantom_ and reads through all her notes. There’s little that’s not ingrained in her mind, at this point, but there’s a comfort in tracing the dark lines of music with her fingers.

She’s in the middle of brushing her teeth later that night when Kylo texts her. She’s finally put his name into her phone – she figured that if they’re going to try and get along, she might as well start there.

<< Kylo Ren:

Are you free after group rehearsal tomorrow? >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

Yeah. Want to meet up? >>

<< Kylo Ren:

Fifteen minutes after? >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

Works for me. >>

She takes the marble steps of the Coruscant two at a time on Monday morning and arrives early to her lesson with Leia, but doesn’t stop to think about why.

By the time group rehearsal comes around, Rey’s feeling more on point than she has in weeks. Her one-on-one with Leia had ended early, after Leia had sent her away with nothing but compliments. Now, Rey and Finn walk into practice arm in arm, and she’s excited – genuinely excited – to get to work on her performance with everyone else.

Luke smiles at them both as they find seats in the room’s front row. Kylo is sitting just off to his left – he lifts his head as Rey starts to rifle through her things. The smallest of smiles flickers across his face when she catches his eye. Rey smiles back, then goes about finding a seat and pulling out her score.

“This is exciting,” Finn says. His leg is bouncing beside her, hard enough that she can feel the vibrations in her own chair. “I don’t think we’ve all been together since, what, early February?”

“Right you are, Mr. Trooper,” Luke, who’s overheard, says. “This makes for a remarkable group rehearsal, I should say.”

Rey snorts and settles her score on the music stand in front of her.

A few minutes later, Luke calls for the room’s attention. The noise quiets down, but the excitement in the air doesn’t dull. The room is electrified in a way that it hasn’t been in weeks.

“Hello, everyone,” Luke says, his voice warm with affection. “It’s good to see so many of you here today.” A brief chuckle spreads through the room. “We’ll be working on the ‘Notes’, ‘Prima Donna’, and ‘All I Ask of You’ today, provided that we have the time.” He turns his attention to Finn and Rey. “I’ve yet to see you two perform this. Have you had many chances to practice it together?”

Finn and Rey exchange glances. “One or two,” Finn admits. “Not as many as we’d like.”

Luke hesitates, then shrugs. “We have to start somewhere. I’ll hold it off until the end, in any case. For now: Phasma, Ello, Snaps, and Hux, please come to the front. Finn, you go off to stage left – sorry, my left, your right – and Rey, I’d like you to stay towards the back. Jessika –” Jessika Pava steps forward, Meg Giry in all ways save the darkness of her hair. “Once my sister arrives, I’ll put the two of you in next to Rey,” Luke says. “And finally, Kylo: if we make it to the point where we need you to bellow, do you think you’ll be up for it?”

There’s a snort from someone, but it’s impossible to tell who. Rey finds herself almost smiling and has to fight down the urge.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Kylo says. Luke doesn’t quite roll his eyes, but it’s a near thing. He makes his way over to the piano and rolls up his sleeves.

“From the beginning, if you wouldn’t mind. Ello, you have two bars.”

“Aye, aye, boss.”

Luke plays the first notes on the piano, and ‘Notes’ begins.

Rey’s used to the progression of the song, now, but hearing Finn’s voice amongst them adds a new layer. He’s nothing like Kylo’s imitation of Raoul; his voice is slightly higher, but also far more genuine. Raoul’s annoyance with both the directors and Carlotta comes off as distinctly funny when he plays it; with Kylo, it was far more menacing. Rey adds her opposing chorus while listening to him and can’t help her quiet smile. She schools her face when she catches Luke looking at her – while the group rehearsal isn’t exactly for acting, it won’t do her any good to develop bad habits.

They have to stop more than once to tune Finn’s voice to the rest of theirs, but otherwise, ‘Notes’ blurs smoothly into ‘Prima Donna’. By the fourth or fifth run through, Luke lets them get close to the end of the song. Rey sees Kylo unfurl in his seat, rearranging his limbs and broadening his chest. He catches her looking at him and quirks an eyebrow, but then they hit the last note and –

“So, it is to be war with us! If these demands are not met, a disaster beyond imagination will occur!”

It’s only the tinkling of Luke’s piano that carries Rey through her rest. Kylo’s voice is still echoing through the room when the cast steps forward to sing back their defiance. It’s a powerful moment that leaves the room ringing afterward, and the remaining cast breaks into gentle applause.

Luke pushes away from the piano and smiles widely at the lot of them before shooing them back to their seats. “Well done,” he says. “Finn, I’m glad we have you with us. It’s nice to hear that run properly rounded out.”

Finn and Rey exchange bright smiles as Luke moves on to Phasma and her directors. When he’s finished with his commentary, he calls Finn and Rey forward once more. They stand at the front of the room and let Luke move them about. “May I?” he asks, his hands hovering above Rey’s shoulders. She nods and lets him reposition her so she’s facing away from Finn. She quirks an eyebrow at Luke.

“You’ve just run out of the opera house,” Luke tells her. “A man has just died, and you know the Phantom’s the one who killed him. And you,” he turns to look at Finn. “You’re chasing after her. You have no idea what’s going on, but you’re angry and more than a little afraid. Think you can work with all of that?”

“No problem,” Finn says with an easy grin. Rey rolls her eyes at him, but it’s an affectionate gesture, and one that only Luke can see. He chuckles at her as he moves back towards the piano, leaving her to face the audience without barrier. She finds herself staring directly at Kylo and has to force herself not to look away.

“Four bars,” Luke says as he takes his seat. “Start out with your confrontation, and then move into the song proper. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Ready.”

The first notes fill the room. Rey takes a breath, pulls fear into her face, and then –

It’s a strange process, singing with her friend. Even when she’s supposed to be mad at him, the notes come easy. Their movements are unpracticed, and there are a few moments where their voices don’t mesh, but Luke doesn’t stop playing, so they press on. As the song changes, Rey lets Finn take her by the shoulders. He presses his lips to her forehead and holds her close as his part of the chorus begins.

Rey lets herself get lost in the warmth of the moment. This relationship, she realizes, is the least complicated thing Christine’s ever had to deal with: there is simply a man who wants her, and who can provide her the safety she can no longer find in the opera house. It’s a magical thing for her, and the song reflects it. She looks up at her friend with exaggerated adoration and sees him grin as she starts to sing.

There is a moment, in the height of the chorus, where her voice falters. She’s turned away from Finn and gripping her invisible cloak when she makes eye contact with the crowd – with Kylo Ren. She misses a note and catches an odd look from Luke, but is quick in her recovery.

She doesn’t have the time to analyze the feeling that’s buried itself in her stomach, but there’s one thing that’s certain: she’s seen that look on his face before. His jaw was tight, his eyes were bright, and he was bent forward, elbows on his knees. Rey forces the image away and focuses on Finn; Finn, who’s lifting her into the air and spinning her around while she giggles like a little girl.

It’s safer here, in this moment, than it is anywhere else, and both Christine and Rey know it.

Finn doesn’t kiss her when the song comes to an end, but instead presses his forehead to hers. When the last notes fade into the air, the two of them step apart and beam at one another.

“Well done!” Luke’s voice breaks through the trance of performance. “There are some things that are off, of course, but for one of our first practices, that was quite well done.”

He dismisses the cast save for Finn, leaving her free to run and collect her things. Rey ducks her head to hide her pleased flush, and is just pulling her bag over her shoulders when Finn returns to her side.

“We’re going to have to schedule some one-on-ones to work out the tuning, but otherwise, we’re in the clear until blocking,” he says. “Do you want to go out for dinner to celebrate?”

Rey grin at him for a moment, then answers him with a shrug. “I can’t,” she says, exaggerating her frown. “I have a one-on-one with Kylo, and then another performance tonight.”

“You poor, overworked thing,” Finn says, shaking his head. “I’ll just have to ask Poe, then. We can bring you leftovers, if you want.”

“I am all for that,” Rey says with a laugh.

Something shifts just over Finn’s shoulder. Rey catches Kylo staring at the two of them, then watches as he looks away.

“We’ll have to find a time to rehearse together,” she says, turning her attention back to Finn. “You and me, and then the three of us. I don’t even want to think about ‘Down Once More’ yet.”

“It’ll be something,” Finn agrees. He claps her on the shoulder, his expression unbearably fond. “I’ll text you later. Break a leg tonight.”

“I’ll try.” Rey smiles. She waves goodbye as he goes to leave, then spends the next several minutes dithering. Luke asks her to turn out the lights as he goes to leave the room, one eyebrow quirked but otherwise unquestioning. Rey flushes again and does as he instructs, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

The reading room looks strange, bathed in darkness and empty. The Coruscant as a whole seems quieter with everyone gone out of it; the smart people, Rey reasons, are out getting dinner. Her footsteps echo through the halls and fill her with a sense of unwarranted dread.

She shakes herself. So long as she doesn’t go in with a negative mindset, how bad can another practice be? Still, she braces herself as she walks into the practice room lobby. There’s no one waiting for her, but the room closest to the desk has its door cracked open. Rey hesitates for a moment longer, then moves to peek her head inside.

Kylo meets her gaze in the mirror. He nods, his hands too busy putting his hair up in the bun to offer her a wave. Rey nods back and makes her way inside, careful to close the door behind her.

“That went well,” she says into the silence.

“Better than usual,” Kylo agrees. He finishes tying up his hair, then reaches for his score. It hangs lazily between his fingers, like he can’t be bothered to hold it correctly. It’s a practiced move, Rey thinks, as she goes to fish out her own.

“Full casts are always better than partial,” she says with a shrug. “Speaking of which: I can’t stay long tonight. My hours are racking up this week, and your mother will have my head if I strain my voice.”

Kylo nods. Rey watches him adjust his music stand and flinches as they lapse back into silence. It’s better than the fighting, she’ll give it that, but there’s still a tension in the air that makes her skin itch.

“What do you want to work on?”

“Not ‘No Return’,” Kylo grumbles. “I think we’d done enough of that lately.”

Rey huffs out a laugh. “We really need the blocking for that,” she says. “And the props, if we want to do things properly.”

Kylo chuckles. “How do you feel about the end of ‘Wishing’?” he asks, after a beat. “With your time crunch, it may be the only one we can do.”

Rey shrugs. “Works for me.” She flips to the proper page in her score and watches Kylo do the same. It’s only when he makes his way over to the piano that she blinks, startled.

“You play?”

“Of course I do.” For a moment, Kylo looks almost offended. “Don’t you?”

“I could never get the hang of it.” Rey admits. “I did what I had to in order to get through my program, but I stopped as soon as I could.”

Kylo snorts. It has a tinge of his old superiority, but it seems to be contained. His long fingers drift over the ivory keys with a touch that seems affectionate. “My mother can’t play, either,” he says. “But my father could.”

Rey hums. There is a beat of silence, stiff and sad, but neither party says a word.

Kylo plays out a line of the chorus on the keys, then straightens in his seat. “Where would you like to begin?”

Rey flips from one page from the next and chooses. “Here,” she says, moving a hair closer to the piano. “I’ll sing the last of my part, and then we can skip the rests so you can come in.”

Kylo grimaces, then flips to the proper page in his score. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” he admits, nodding towards the piano.

When he says nothing else, Rey tries to offer him a smile. “I won’t judge,” she promises. “Cross my heart.”

Kylo huffs out something that might be a laugh, but it’s quieted at once. “Two bars,” he says. “Then you begin.”

His fingers glide across the keys. Rey centers herself, loosens her jaw, and begins to sing.

It’s an awkward start – they don’t make it all that far. Kylo seems so struggle to remember his cues; Rey takes to nudging the piano bench to remind him when to come in. They start earlier, giving him more time to prepare, and only then does he seem to adjust.

“This is strange,” she says, after they’ve come to another stop. “Shouldn’t you be trying to own the situation?”

It may be the evening light sneaking through the window, but Rey swears she sees the tips of Kylo’s ears go red. He clears his throat and lets his fingers drop from the piano keys.

“Normally, yes,” he nods. “And there’s a point, later on, when I think he gets to that. But here at the beginning, he’s more…I dunno.” The flush seems to grow deeper. “I think he’s happy to have her back again.”

Rey raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, he doesn’t really have her,” Kylo says. He grits his teeth and turns away from her. “It’s more…she’s been away from him for so long. She’s the closest thing to human contact he’s had, so the chance to be with her again – I think he loses control for a moment, that’s what I’m saying.”

Rey would giggle at his embarrassment, but she wants to preserve the tentative peace that they have. She leans up against the piano and thinks, biting her lip as gently as she can.

“So what you’re saying is that he’s so happy to have a chance with her again that he forgets they were using each other?”

“Sort of,” Kylo grumbles. “I think he forgot that a long time ago.”

“I’m not sure I agree,” Rey murmurs, but Kylo doesn’t seem to hear. The air in the room grows heavier as their silence becomes deep. “But I can work with that.” She straightens back up and runs a hand down her shirt, flattening the wrinkles that have somehow appeared. “Let’s try it again, shall we?”

Kylo doesn’t look at her, but she sees him nod.

They make it all the way up to Raoul’s entrance, this time, without Rey reminding Kylo of any of his cues.

He ends their practice after that, packing up his things without so much as a word. Rey gathers her score, as well, but waits for him by the practice room door. She tucks the room keys into the receptionist’s desk, then falls into step beside Kylo as they start for the front of the house.

“So,” she asks, her tongue tripping to fill the silence. “What’re you doing tonight?”

Kylo shrugs, but doesn’t respond.

Rey waits, then lets out a huff of breath. “I’ve got to get dinner from somewhere,” she mutters, more for herself than for him. “I’ve never gone on stage without eating before, and I’m not sure that’s an experience I want to have.”

“It’s not pleasant,” Kylo says. He opens the door to the lobby for her and lets her through first.

Rey looks back at him, head tilted to one side. “You’ve done it?”

For a moment, Kylo seems embarrassed. “When I was with the First Order, yeah. I’m sure Phasma told you all about our misadventures.”

Despite herself, Rey laughs. It’s soft and controlled, but it’s there, all the same. “She mentioned some of them. ‘Misadventures’ seems like a kind way of putting it, though.”

“Maybe,” Kylo shrugs, as though he really doesn’t care. “It was what it was for us, back then.”

They linger just inside the glass front doors. A late winter wind has picked up outside and blows drifting snowflakes around the circle drive. Kylo blinks up at the sky, half hidden by the skyscrapers that surround them on all sides. Rey catches herself tracing the curve of his nose with her eyes and forces herself to look away.

“Well,” she says, mentally preparing herself for the cold. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her hand’s barely touch the door when she feels Kylo touch her shoulder. Rey looks back and has to stop herself from laughing at the expression on his face. He looks like he’s in pain, but his ears and cheeks have gone a luminous red.

“Are you,” he starts, then clears his throat. “Is Finn – how is that –”

Rey blinks, startled, and then lets out a laugh. “What are you asking me, exactly?”

The flush gets much, much worse. Rey has to bite back a gleeful smile as Kylo looks anywhere but her. “Are you and Finn dating now?” he asks, at last.

Rey gapes at him, then bursts into laughter. She leans back against the theater’s front doors as she tries to catch her breath, all the while watching as Kylo turns redder. He starts to grumble and turn away from her, after a while, but Rey catches his hand as it slips off her shoulder. She wipes a tear from her eye as she forces herself to breathe.

Kylo Ren seems to have frozen where he stands.

“I’m not dating Finn,” Rey says with a smile. “He is exclusively into men, and I am way too busy to date anyone right now.”

“I see,” Kylo says, his voice tight as a reed. He’s gentle as he goes to pull his hand away from hers. “That’s – okay, I suppose that makes sense. You two seem close?”

Rey can’t help her snort. “We’ve been friends for a while,” she tells him. “He’s probably the only person in the city I’ve known for more than four years, and honestly, I think there are days when he regrets it.”

“I doubt that,” Kylo says. His flush hasn’t completed faded, and Rey relishes in it – this uncomfortable man is miles away from the pretentious douchebag she knows he can be. She’s a greedy girl. She’ll take what she can get.

“That’s nice of you,” she says, just to watch him squirm. “But you haven’t had to deal with me in the morning, and he definitely has.” She turns away from him, then, and glances at her watch. “Okay, I really have to go. I have to be back here in an hour and a half.”

She offers Kylo another smile, but he’s not looking at her to see it. With a quiet sigh, Rey puts her hand back on the door.

“Have a good night, Kylo.”

“You, too.” It’s more mumbled than anything else, but again: she’s greedy. Rey ducks her head to hide her smile as she walks out into the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought XOXO


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a cold snap (literally, not emotionally - well, not exactly).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVE, KIDDOS.
> 
> It's 28 minutes into the last day of 2016; that, I believe, is more than enough reason to celebrate. Thank you folks for running with me over the course of this past year and for all of your kind comments, kudos, and support. I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and that the last day of 2016 is better than all that came before it. I'll toast you when the clock strikes midnight. XOXO

The last week that _Carmen_ is on stage, the city around the Coruscant endures its worst cold snap of the winter. Rey walks to work wearing a sweater that Finn’s lent her and her thickest winter coat for three days in a row, but her teeth are still chattering when she arrives. Leia plies her with tea before their morning lessons and moves her space heater out from behind her desk for them to share while they wait for the winter chill to subside.

“I thought living here meant I didn’t have to deal with this bullshit anymore,” Leia grumbles, wrapping her hands around a mug of her own. “I lived in a place called Hoth, once – have I ever told you that? – and let me tell you: I didn’t think there was any place colder in the entire world.”

“Why did you stay?” Rey asks.

“Business.” The look in Leia’s eye grows fond for the briefest of moments. When Rey goes to comment, her mentor snaps out of it and quickly directs her into the practice room.

Their lesson, on that particular day, is relaxed. With _Carmen_ working its way across the Coruscant stage, there’s only _Phantom_ to focus on, though the increasing number of hours Rey’s spending at the theater hardly lend themselves to a sense of relief.

Despite the hours, things have grown…peaceful. Group rehearsal for _Phantom_ are rarely fraught with arguments, now, even if the air between the two leads is still thick with awkwardness. Luke grows relaxed as he sits at his piano, and the cast becomes tentatively excited, even as the weather grows colder.

It’s on the coldest day of the year, however, that the fragile peace breaks.

Leia, as Madam Giry, does not frequently find herself participating in _Phantom_ ’s group practices. She sits in when she can, but Rey has yet to hear her sing in front of the cast. No one’s worried, of course – it’s _Leia Organa_ , there’s no way she’s going to flub the role – but the atmosphere seems to change in the reading room on the days she does attend. Rey’s not sure if it’s nerves or just an increased desire to do well, but the air always becomes a little bit tauter.

She, Finn, and Kylo are in the middle of the graveyard scene on the day that Leia decides to slip in. The door to the reading room closes softly, but Rey hears Kylo miss a note, anyway. Luke’s piano playing comes to an unceremonious halt. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at his sister before turning his attention over to his performers.

“Again, please,” he says, one graying eyebrow raised. Rey takes a deep breath through her nose and exchanges a brief glance with Finn. Luke gives them their prep, and then they’re off again.

The graveyard scene after Christine finished ‘Wishing’ has undergone many adaptions, some of them better than others. When Rey saw the 2004 movie version of _Phantom_ for the first time, she was both thoroughly unimpressed and giddily amused. Luke has not instructed his two romantic leads to swordfight across a stage covered in fake snow; rather, he’s borrowed from a different production. Kylo will stand on a lowered catwalk, just above above Christine and Raoul, casting fireballs in their general direction. If not more realistic, Rey reasons, carrying on through her counter melody, it is at least more entertaining.

That said, here on the ground, it’s clear Kylo’s motivation has recently changed. As he drew her to him before under the guise of her father, he was ecstatic, mad, even seductive (and isn’t that a reverse-Oedipus complex waiting to happen). Now, he only seems angry.

It only gets worse when Leia calls for the rehearsal to stop. “Kylo,” she calls, her voice firm. “The anger you’re pushing into the role here is admirable, but it’s getting in the way of your tone. You either need to improve your control or dial it back.”

The reading room goes silent. Rey risks a glance over to Kylo and sees his mouth dip into the worst of scowls. It’s an expression she hasn’t seen in a while, and it nearly makes her step away. When she looks over to Leia, however, it’s to see something similar. Rey would laugh at the maternal version of Kylo’s scowl, but with the man himself in front of her and her boss to her back, she decides it best to remain _as still as feasibly possible_.

It’s Luke who breaks the silence. “Let’s run that again.”

They manage two more runs before Kylo snaps. Each time, the comment remains the same: take control, take control. When the break comes, Kylo whirls towards his mother, his teeth bared. She stops him with one raised hand, then nods towards the door.

With what remains of his control, Kylo holds himself upright and marches out of the room. Rey stares after him, her lips pressed thin, before turning to look at Leia. Her mentor is moving towards the door, as well, though there’s something tired lingering in the corners of her eyes. The door, when she goes to close it, latches without a sound.

Then, the shouting starts.

Rey sees Luke heave a sigh and drag a hand across his face. “We’re done with that for the day,” he says. “Everyone, turn to ‘Masquerade’, if you please.”

Something crashes in the hall. Rey winces, but retreats to retrieve her score.

“I want you to sing this loudly,” Luke says, raising his voice. “As loudly as you like, actually. If you think you’re being unprofessional with how loud you’re being,” there is another crash, “then you’re on the right track.”

There’s a manic chuckle from somewhere in the back, but Rey doesn’t bother to locate who it’s from. She and Finn take their seats as Luke makes his way back to the piano. The lead in notes are loud, out-of-tune loud, but none of the cast dare to comment.

Their combined voices make the reading room shake, but they’re still not loud enough to drown out the shouting in the hall. They run the song once, then hesitate in timid silence. When something crashes _again,_ Luke sighs and has them run it once more. Afterwards, he dismisses them all and walks out of the room without his score, likely to head for his sister’s office.

The cast is slow to filter out of the reading room, but Rey and Finn linger longest.

“So,” Finn says, casting a sideways glance in Rey’s direction. “Do you think we should wait for him, or…?”

Rey picks up her bag of things and sighs. “I’m not sure. If he’s pissed, I don’t want to practice with him, and I doubt he’ll want to practice, either.”

“So we should just head over towards Poe and see if he shows up?”

“I guess.” Rey shrugs.

Their pre-scheduled practice has more than likely been canceled, but she and Finn do Kylo the courtesy of at least showing up. Poe grins at them from behind his desk until he informs them that, no, he’s not seen any tall, dark, and furious performers today.

“You know, that may be a good thing,” Finn says with a laugh. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to get in his way today.”

“Me, neither,” Rey says. “I can’t help but wonder, though. It was going so well up until today. What do you think happened?”

Finn and Poe exchange glances, then shrug. “You could ask him,” Finn says.

“What? Why me?”

“Because he likes you,” Poe interjects.

Rey blanches as Finn starts to nod. “You’re probably the only person besides Phasma and Hux that he’s even remotely nice to around here,” he says. “That’s kind of new, yeah, but you could probably use it.”

“I’m not going to manipulate him just to figure out what’s going on,” Rey sputters. “I don’t even care that much. Geez, guys.”

Finn and Poe exchange dubious smirks. “Alright,” Poe says, raising his hands in surrender. “But hey, onto more important things: do you two want to go out for dinner?”

Finn and Rey exchange a quick look. “Daisy’s performing for me tonight,” Rey says. “But that said: I want to be home before midnight.”

“Don’t worry, Cinderella, we’ll get you where you need to go.” Poe flashes her a cocky smile. “Finn, what about you?”

“I’m game,” Finn says. Rey resists the urge to point it out, but there’s a faint pinkness dancing over his cheeks. For one horrible moment, she thinks she’ll be third-wheeling their dinner. Then, she shakes herself. Finn looks over at her with concern, but she waves it off.

“Come on, nerd,” she says to Poe, hopping off his desk. “Get off the clock so the rest of us can go.”

“So demanding,” Poe grumbles, but Rey can see him smiling.

Poe has a car by some stretch of luck, so they’re able to expand on their usual places for dinner. He ends up taking them to a family restaurant some twenty minutes away from the theater that neither of them have been to before. They sit with their elbows on the table and earn an odd look from their waiter, but they don’t pay him any mind.

“So, Rey,” Poe says, after the waiter’s brought them their drinks and they’ve placed their orders. “Compared to our too-tall friend, you’re seeming pretty chill these days.”

“What, is that a bad thing?” Rey asks, setting her water aside before she accidentally snorts it up her nose.

“No, no,” Poe insists. “I’m just disappointed that I don’t have to keep an eye out for dead bodies anymore.”

“Oh, I never said that,” Rey tells him. “There could well be a dead body around the theater somewhere. Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Yeah, but now I know it’s not gonna be Kylo Ren’s.”

“Again, you don’t know that.” Rey chuckles. “But – I just got tired of being angry, you know? There’s only so many nights you can go home and think, ‘oh, I want to kill someone!’ before you start getting sick of yourself.”

(There may or may not be a screenshot on her phone of Kylo’s apology, but Finn and Poe don’t need to know about that.)

Poe nods, then takes a sip of his own water. Rey glances over to Finn and sees him staring at them, wide-eyed. “You two have fucked up senses of humor, you know?”

“Coming from you,” Rey says with a laugh, “that’s almost a compliment.”

Their food arrives a short time after their laughter dies down, and the conversation drops in favor of eating. Rey digs through her mash potatoes and beans, doing her best not to moan. She can’t remember the last time she had a good, home-like meal – the best she’s been getting lately is rice and chicken, and she rarely has the energy to make even that. Finn doesn’t look much better than she does. Of the three of them, she’s willing to bet that Poe’s the only one eating three full meals a day.

Oh, the costs of being a performer.

She’s cleaned her plate before either of the men have finished, and her food sits heavy in her stomach. When the waiter drops by to take her plate, he leaves the bill on her side of the table, then offers to bring a carry out box for Poe. He goes to offer one to Finn, as well, but Finn’s fork is still buried in his mouth. Poe seems to blink himself out of a trance when he tells the waiter no, he won’t be needing a box. After the man disappears, Poe passes what remains on his plate over to Finn.

“For fuck’s sake,” Rey mutters under her breath, but it’s too soft for either of the men to hear. They’re too cute, she thinks, and it’s going to kill her if she keeps looking, so she turns her attention over to the bill. She doesn’t even get to touch it, though, before Poe snatches it away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, exasperation bleeding into her voice.

“Call it a thank you,” Poe says with a shrug. “If not for you two, I would’ve gone home and ordered a pizza. This is much better.” He fishes his wallet from his pocket and pulls out enough cash to cover everyone. Finn and Rey both go to protest, but he seems not to hear them. Instead, he winks, then waltzes over the cashier near the restaurant’s door.

While he’s gone, Rey and Finn exchange a look.

“He’s a good man,” Rey murmurs.

“I know,” Finn whispers back. The flush is back on his cheeks, and it makes Rey’s heart thud in her chest. She reaches out and presses her hand to his. Finn looks down to it, then back to her face, confusion written into his features. Rey doesn’t hesitate to roll her eyes this time and gives his hand a squeeze.

They’ve just come apart when Poe returns to the table. He gives them an odd look before sliding back into his seat.

“How much longer does _Carmen_ run for, Rey?” he asks. “I feel like I’ve lost track of everything that’s going on anymore.”

“Our last performance is this Friday,” Rey says with a smile. “I’ll be performing in it, I think, unless Daisy really wants to.”

Poe chuckles, as does Finn. “She’s done well, from what I’ve seen so far,” Poe says. “Not that you haven’t! You were excellent, that first night.”

“Glad to know we’re doing your favorite opera justice.” Rey is delighted by the return of Poe’s flush and is quick to offer him a wink. He shrugs imperceptibly, almost in apology. Then, he glances at Finn.

Rey doesn’t mind. It’s better than Sidon had ever done, anyway, and if this man is going to be wooing her best friend, he has to be much, much better than that asshole. Not that it’s a difficult task, but still. Rey has to be prepared.

After at least two minutes, Poe and Finn are still making eyes at each other, so Rey stretches back and exaggerates her yawn. “Oh, I’m tired,” she says. “Poe, do you think you could drive me home?”

“Yeah, of course,” Poe says, scrambling out of his seat.

Finn moves more slowly, pulling on his coat before resting a hand on Rey’s shoulder. “You feeling okay?” he asks as they head for the exit.

Rey nods. “Long day,” she says, in way of explanation. “And with everything going on tomorrow, it’ll be best if I try to get some sleep.”

Finn still looks suspicious, but he nods, all the same. The three of them clamber into Poe’s car, their conversation subdued as they drive off into the night. It’s cold enough that Rey’s shivering in the backseat, but Finn is quick to offer her his jacket. She uses it as a blanket and watches the streetlights go whipping past. For a moment, she doesn’t have to fake the heaviness in her eyes.

Before she knows it, they’re back at her apartment. Poe goes as far as to open the car door for her, grinning at her as she makes her way out. Rey gives Finn his coat back, only to raise her eyebrows at his clucking tongue. “You never dress warmly enough,” he says as he pulls the coat back on.

“I know, mother,” Rey teases, winking as she closes the car door. She turns around, then goes to offer Poe a hug.

“Thank you for tonight,” she says, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Make sure you get Finn home in one piece, alright?”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, bonita,” Poe says. “I’ll take good care of him.”

Rey almost says something – almost – but instead, she smiles. She starts up the staircase and offers her boys one more wave before moving out of sight. She hears the engine of Poe’s car grumble as he starts off into the night and wraps her coat more tightly around her shoulders.

The chill in the air is deep and threatens to sink into her bones as she struggles to find her keys. Her apartment isn’t much better – the heat’s on, but it’s doing a poor job of driving the cold out. Rey frowns and reaches for the blanket she keeps draped over the back of the couch. She doesn’t have any plan tonight besides watching a bit of Netflix, but it looks like she may be making a blanket nest, instead. The thought makes her laugh – blanket nests aren’t uncommon things in her little apartment, but they are so inherently child-like that they always lift her heart. Rey heads for the closet and pulls down what other blankets she can find, then braces herself against the couch.

By the time midnight rolls around, she’s buried beneath at least three blankets with a fourth draped over her shoulders. She doesn’t know what episode of Criminal Minds she’s on, but she doesn’t really care. By some blissful miracle, her eyes are drifting shut, and she’s too warm to bother moving.

It’s close to three when she hears something crack.

Rey comes to in a moment, her throat tight and her eyes wide open. There’s another crack, followed by the sound of rushing water. Rey swears and disentangles herself from her pile of blankets. She turns the lights on as she runs to investigate, swearing at the universe and at the wall when she hits it in her rush.

There’s a third crack, much louder than the first two. Rey flinches and follows the noise into the bathroom. She pushes open the door and sucks in a breath.

“Fuck!”

The water pipes have burst. Rey can see two places where water is leaking down the walls, her exposed pipes gushing water that she has no chance of stopping. She tries, anyway, shrugging out of her shirt and using it as a plug for the nearest break. It seems to stop the water flow for a short time, but she knows it won’t last.

She still hasn’t found the third crack. Rey flees from the bathroom and moves back through her apartment. The cabinet under her sink reveals the culprit, as both it and part of her bathroom floor are slowly become soaked with water.

Rey closes her eyes and, for a moment, unleashes every swear she’s ever learned on her disaster of an apartment. She runs a hand through her hair and tugs, letting the pain bring her back into the proper moment. Then, she leaves the bathroom at a run and goes searching for her cellphone.

She plugged emergency maintenance into her contacts the first week she moved her, but she’s only had to use it three times in the past four years. Her hands shake as she presses the call button.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Rey Kenobi is 2871,” she says. “My pipes have broken open and are flooding parts of my apartment.”

“You and half the apartment complex, kid,” the woman on the other end says. “We’ll send someone up as soon as they’re free, but I suggest you take what’s important and get out for the night.”

“What do you mean?” Rey asks, her voice creeping higher.

“Get your expensive stuff out and leave,” the woman says again. “We’ll have the water stopped in a couple of hours at the latest, but I’m not sure when we’ll be able to get to your apartment specifically.” There’s a beep on the other end of the phone. “I have to go, honey, someone else is calling.”

“Alright,” Rey says, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, I guess.”

The dial tone offers her little response. Rey resists the urge to throw her phone on the couch and instead cradles it in her hands.

She calls Finn first, but he doesn’t answer. The message she leaves him is no doubt harried, but Rey doesn’t have a lot of time for composure. She calls Poe, as well, but all she gets is his too-cheerful voicemail. Rey curses and paces through her apartment. The water in the kitchen is inching towards her carpet, so she runs into the bedroom to find another shirt. As soon as she’s patched the leak, she goes back to her phone.

Her options are limited. She could call Leia, but she knows the older woman isn’t awake at this hour. Phasma _would_ be an option if Rey had her phone number, but they blew past that level of comradery in favor of fist fights. She calls Finn again with her fingers crossed, but it does her no good.

There’s one person she hasn’t tried. Rey grimaces at his number in her phone, then looks back towards the kitchen. She doesn’t even want to imagine what the bathroom looks like.

After another steadying breath, Rey dials the number and lifts her phone to her ear.

The phone rings three times before Kylo Ren picks up. “Rey?” he says, his voice thick with sleep. “Why are you calling me?”

“Hi, I’m kind of having an emergency,” Rey says, her words coming too quick. “The pipes in my apartment have burst, maintenance can’t get here to stop the water, and no one else is picking up their phone. Can I crash on your couch tonight?”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone. Then: “I’m still asleep, aren’t I?”

“You’re really, really not.” Rey’s laugh is a little desperate. “Please, Kylo. You’re kind of my only hope.”

Her words meet another wall of silence. Then, there’s a sigh. “Okay. I still have your address; I’ll be over soon.”

“Thank you so much.” Rey tries to infuse her voice with as much gratitude as possible. “Really, this means so much. I promise I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow afternoon, but really: thank you.”

Kylo grunts something that sounds like “you’re welcome”, but his voice is so muddled that Rey can’t be sure. “Twenty minutes,” he tells her. “I’ll call you when I’m there.”

With that, the conversation ends. Rey sets her phone on the coffee table and runs into her bedroom, fishing out a gym bag to throw an assortment of clothes and toiletries into to. It’s only a side thought that reminds her to grab the bag her scores in, saving it from the wrath of her semi-soggy floor. She slips on her most comfortable pair of shoes, then goes running from her apartment, making sure her keys are slipped safely into her pocket.

It seems like the whole of the complex is awake. Lights are on in all of the apartments Rey passes, and there’s shouting from more than one. She thinks about the tired maintenance secretary and tries not to wince. That’s one job she’s glad she doesn’t have tonight.

The cold hasn’t eased over the past several hours; if anything, it’s gotten worse. Still, Rey hunkers herself down on the staircase and cradles her phone in her hands. Her legs are shaking by the time she hears a car come roaring into the parking lot. She’s running down the stairs before her phone even starts to ring.

Kylo blinks at her from inside of his car, his phone up to his ear. He sets it down and unlocks the door for her, looking her over as she slides inside. Rey doesn’t want to imagine what she looks like: yesterday’s makeup still on, her hair a mess, and every inch of her shaking.

“You look like shit.”

“Yes, thank you,” Rey huffs. She brings her hands close to her chest and blows on them in a desperate attempt to stop shaking. “But really, thank you for doing this.” She takes a moment and looks at him. Objectively, he looks no better than she does: his hair looks like a bird has taken roost in it, and his eyes still hold the haze of sleep.

“No problem,” he mutters, before turning his attention to the car.

They go peeling out of the parking lot before Rey has a chance to buckle her seatbelt. She clings to the armrest as Kylo drives down the road, his foot heavy on the gas pedal. Some small part of her tells herself that she shouldn’t be surprised, but her heart lurches in her throat every time he pulls up to a stoplight.

When he finally slows down to reasonable speeds, Rey glances out the window. They’re not too far from the city, but far enough that Kylo can live in a house instead of an apartment. Realistically, Rey’s apartment is _not_ twenty minutes away, but she can see how, with his driving, he considered that a reasonable estimate.

Rey spares him another glance when she’s not busy fearing for her life. He looks like he’s thrown on whatever clothes he could find, and – is he wearing flip flops? Rey debates trying to be subtle, looking at the gas pedals from the corner of her eye. He _is_ , and she’s going to have to buy him a fruit basket when this is over. She runs a hand over her face and tries not to think as he swerves around another corner.

Her breath of relief when they pull into the driveway of what Rey assumes is Kylo’s house is a little too audible. He snorts as he brings the car to a stop, the death of the engine sparking an extended silence between them both.

Rey bites her lip and swears under her breath. “You’re a terrifying driver,” she says, at last.

Kylo huffs out something that may be a laugh. “Come on,” he says, pushing open his door. “I want to go back to bed.”

It’s not a big house. It may be the size of Rey’s apartment, at most, perhaps even smaller, but it’s…oddly cozy. Rey clutches her travel bag to her chest as she and Kylo makes their way inside. He lets her in first, holding the door open while his shoulders sag.

“Take your shoes off,” he mutters as he closes the door behind him. Rey does as she’s told and toes her shoes off by the couch before she settles down on it.

Kylo disappears from a moment, then returns with a pillow and a tie fleece blanket. When Rey raises an eyebrow, he shrugs. “My mom made it for me,” he says, and it’s a testament to how tired he is that the words come out without any resentment.

“Thank you,” Rey says as she takes it in hand. Her heart is still pounding from the car ride over, and there’s a headache forming in the center of her head, but she’s grateful all the same. Kylo hovers as she arranges herself on the couch, his eyes half-open but attentive. It’s only when Rey shuffles that he seems to come back to herself.

“I’m going in at nine tomorrow,” he grumbles, turning away. “Bathroom is down the hall, if you wake up before me.”

Rey nods. After another moment of awkward silence, Kylo turns and makes his way back down the hall.

“Goodnight.” The words fall out of Rey’s mouth without her consent.

Kylo halts for a brief moment and glances back over his shoulder. “Goodnight.” It’s awkward and stilted, but it’s there. He beats a hasty retreat into his bedroom. Rey closes her eyes as she hears the door close behind him.

She drifts for some time between wakefulness and sleep, but never fully succumbs. Her headache only gets worse, complicated by the stress of the day and the strangeness of her surroundings. It’s warmer in Kylo’s house than it is into her apartment, but the couch beneath her feels underused, and the unfamiliar lights from the cars passing on the street make her twitch. Rey closes her eyes and tries to block them out, but they shine brighter than stage lights.

It’s four thirteen in the morning when she gives up the fight. Rey kicks Kylo’s blanket off and cradles one of his pillows to her chest, then opens her eyes. Snowflakes have started to fall outside; they make crystal patterns on the front window. Rey cradles the pillow closer, as though to protect herself from the cold.

The door to Kylo’s bedroom opens down the hall. Rey jumps and ducks her head, as though to use her pillow as a shield. She sees the glow of the bathroom light sputter to life as Kylo flicks it on, but it’s quick to die. The sound of running water fills the apartment.

When Kylo emerges, Rey does a semi-convincing job of pretending to be asleep. She waits to hear his bedroom door close again, but the sound never comes. When she risks looking upward, it’s to find him standing at the end of the hall, staring out towards the living room. He jumps when he sees her and casts his gaze up towards the ceiling. When she sees him glance at her again, Rey offers him a smile.

“Can’t sleep?”

Kylo hesitates, then shakes his head.

“Me, neither,” Rey says. “Though that’s not unusual for me.”

“Explains a lot,” Kylo huffs. Rey looks at him, one eyebrow creeping up on her forehead. Kylo shuffles, uncomfortable with the attention. “You look tired a lot,” he says, in way of explanation. “And – and you’re really grumpy. Or you were.”

Rey snorts. “You’re not wrong,” she admits. “But that has less to do with my sleep schedule and more to do with the company I keep.”

She can’t tell if he’s laughed or not, but his shoulders shake, just a hair. She takes this as a good sign. “What about you?”

Kylo shrugs. “Sleeping is never easy,” he says. “I – there are nightmares, for me. Always have been.” His laugh is dark and cold. “Sometimes I think it would be better if I couldn’t fall asleep, but I always do, and they’re always there.”

The snow outside is coming down more heavily now; if it keeps up, Rey’s going to have to deal with more than water in her apartment. She frowns and twists her hands together in her lap.

“Do you want to watch some TV?” she says, at last. “That helps me, on nights like this.”

Kylo glances at her. The corner of his mouth quirks, like something’s funny, but Rey doesn’t know what. “I don’t have cable.”

“That’s fine,” Rey shrugs. She stands from the couch to go and crouch in front of Kylo’s TV. It’s small, but that’s alright; they won’t really be watching, anyway. “It’s just for the noise, really. I found this one movie once, though, about these telepathic rocks that were trying to take over the world, and let me tell you: it was weird but really compelling.”

Kylo’s laughter comes from deep within his chest. Rey glances over her shoulder as the television comes on and finds herself enveloped in a flash of white light. She makes her way back to the couch with the remote in hand and passes it over to Kylo. His fingers, when hers brush against them, are warm and soft. Rey does her best not to frown in surprise; she’d expected them, somehow, to be rougher.

Rey pulls her hand away and focuses on wrapping Kylo’s blanket around her once more, idly watching as he flips through the different channels. A big cat documentary appears on the screen, and he freezes, watching as a cheetah and a mud-splatter Jeep go racing across the screen. Rey almost laughs at the look that crosses his face: it’s child-like, yet snarky in its amusement. She snuggles back into the couch cushions as Kylo sets the remote aside.

They watch a mother cheetah gather her cubs as she teaches them to hunt, their little chirps echoing across the grassy savannah. The narrator is a deeply British man with a voice like soft velvet; Rey relaxes without even hearing what he’s saying. It’s only when Kylo shifts, his arm brushing against her side, that she realizes she’s closed her eyes. She glances up at him and gives her a rueful smile.

“I usually stretch out,” he says. “That’s why the couch is so long.”

Rey nods in understand, then curls up with her feet tucked underneath her thighs. “Try again,” she says. “I don’t mind.”

Kylo hesitates for a long moment. Then, with slow, careful movements, he does as she says. Rey ends up pressed between the couch cushions and his side, but she does her best not to think about it. Kylo tries to give her as much space as he can, but he does not look at her.

On screen, the mother cheetah crouches low. The gazelle, unaware, drift through the grass, nibbling and playing like nothing’s the matter.

Kylo’s arm drifts to the back of the couch, but Rey doesn’t notice. She closes her eyes again.

“You don’t think this is weird?” she hears Kylo ask.

Rey shakes her head as best she can, but doesn’t bother to open her eyes. “I might not talk about it in the morning,” she says, as the heat of his torso burns across her straying hand. “But right now, I don’t really care.”

His chest rumbles with some sort of consent, but she’s too far gone to notice. Rey drifts off to sleep surrounded by warmth and with her head full of the sounds of a successful hunt.

*

Morning proper comes all too soon.

It takes Rey a moment to remember where she is when she wakes. She lifts her head and blinks out the large picture window, trying to make sense of the noise around her and the shifting nature of her bed. It takes her a moment to realize that the television is still on. The show that’s playing now has something to do with house cats and therapists, and Rey pays attention to it for all of a second before moving her attention elsewhere; specifically, to the man she fell asleep on.

One of her arms is wrapped around Kylo Ren’s torso, and she seems to have spent most of the night with her head pillowed on his chest. The man himself is still sound asleep. His gentle snores would make her giggle – really, they would, if Rey wasn’t busy being utterly mortified.

The man mumbles something unintelligible and turns his head away from her. His arm falls from the back of the couch and lands across her shoulders, effectively dragging her into his side. Rey feels her face go a crimson red.

“Kylo,” she says again, raising her voice. “Kylo, come on, we need to get up.”

“Don’t wanna,” Kylo grumbles. “Five more minutes?”

The urge to laugh is getting stronger, but Rey cannot – _will not_ – indulge it. “No, we cannot have five more minutes,” she says. “Please, at least let me get up.”

At that, Kylo opens his eyes. He blinks at her, his gaze still glazed over and sleepy. For a moment, the hints of a smile appear on his face. Then, he snaps into awareness. He’s quick to slide off the couch, bringing himself to his feet without so much as a pause in motion. His sudden absence drains some of the heat from Rey’s body, which, on one hand, is a relief, but on the other, leaves her wanting.

“Sorry,” he grunts, his voice still rough with sleep.

“It’s okay,” Rey insists. “It’s fine. I just – do you know what time it is?”

Kylo glances around the room until his eyes land on the clock. Then, he sighs. “We have forty five minutes before we need to go.”

Rey sighs, as well, her body sagging with relief. “In that case, I’m going to use your bathroom. Do you mind?”

Kylo shakes his head, but refuses to meet her gaze. “Want me to show you how to work the shower?”

He flushes a moment later, then looks at her, his eyes wide. Rey covers her mouth to stifle a giggle, but the damage is done. “You’re lucky I’m still sleepy,” she tells him, and it’s only half a lie. “But yeah, I’d appreciate that.”

The noise Kylo lets out is half affirmation, half pained animal. He turns on his heel and marches down the hall, hardly waiting for Rey to grab her things and catch up with him. He keeps the tutorial blessedly quick, then leaves Rey to take care of business.

She keeps her shower short, though the bathroom is still steamy by the time she’s done. It’s not until she steps onto Kylo’s black shag bath rug that she realizes he’s left her without a spare towel. With a frustrated sigh, she reaches for one that she can only assume is Kylo’s and dries herself off. It’s difficult to touch as little of herself as possible while also getting completely dry, but she tries. She hangs the towel back up after padding her hair dry and catches a glimpse of herself in the still-foggy bathroom mirror.

She looks – well, not better, but certainly no worse for wear. The shadows under her eyes aren’t _too_ deep, and there’s a flush in her cheeks that she can only attribute to the warm shower. She’s just brushing the hair away from her face when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Hurry up,” Kylo calls, sounding far more awake than he did before. “I need to take a shower, too.”

“Sorry!” Rey calls. She throws on a thin layer of makeup and brushes her teeth before barreling out of the bathroom with her clothes half askew.

Kylo is waiting impatiently on the couch, a cup of coffee in his hand. “There’s more in the kitchen,” he says as he stands. “But _you’re_ going to be the one making excuses to Luke if we show up late today.”

“Fine,” Rey huffs. He brushes past her as he moves down the hall, leaving her to find a mug and sugar on her own.

She’s sitting on the couch, halfway through her second cup, when Kylo reappears. The sound of his cursing draws her gaze down the hall. She catches a glimpse of him – hair wet, chest bare, sweat pants hung low on his hips – before he disappears again.

It’s enough. Rey feels her breath catch in her chest as a wave of warmth washes over her. There’s no way he actually looks like that, she thinks, taking a sip of coffee; the dark had to embellish what she saw, or – or – something. There’s no way someone can be that shredded when all they do is sing and complain. Absolutely no way.

She wonders, idly, if he’d let her have a closer look, then shuts the thought down hard.

By the time he arrives in the living room again, her mug is in his sink and she’s busy staring at her shoes. The clock on the wall reads eight forty five – they have fifteen minutes to make it to the theater on time.

“You ready?” Kylo asks, pulling on his coat.

Rey looks up at him and nods. “I’ve texted Finn,” she says as she comes to her feet. “I’ll be able to crash at his place after work today. Thank you for doing this, though.”

Kylo hesitates, then shrugs. “Come on,” he says, nodding towards the door. “We’re gonna be late.”

Rey grabs her bag and shrugs it over her shoulder, then slips out the front door. She doesn’t look back to see if she’s following him, just slides into the passenger’s seat and waits for the thrill ride to begin.

To Kylo’s credit, they manage to avoid all accidents before arriving at the theater, even if they are five minutes late. Kylo’s barely managed to park the car before Rey goes barreling out, but he’s quick to follow. They charge down the halls of the theater and stumble over each other on their way into the practice room lobby. There’s laughter on Rey’s lips that she cannot control, but she does her best not to let Kylo see.

Luke is leaning against Poe’s desk when they arrive, deep in a conversation Rey can’t make sense of for all the blood pumping in her ears. Both men turn at the harried sound of the artists’ approach.

“Luke, I had to go over to his place in order to get some sleep,” Rey says in a rush. “It’s my fault that we’re late; I’m so sorry.”

Poe’s smirk has only gotten wider, but there’s a touch of real concern in his eyes. “That’s why you called me?” he asks. Rey nods and runs a hand through her still-damp hair.

Luke looks between the two of them, and then back at Poe. “Well, in that case,” he says. “I suppose I can forgive you. Come inside. We’ll get you both warmed up and see what we can accomplish today.”

He plucks a practice room key’s from the corkboard by Poe’s desk and whisks the artists away. Rey and Poe exchange a quick glance as she passes by. She offers him a smile to sooth his worry and is relieved turns and lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t hesitate to smile.

Their practice goes smoothly, despite – or perhaps because of – their mutual sleepiness. Luke throws them both suspicious glances when their arguments lack bite, but, to his credit, he doesn’t say a word. He lets them go early, too, citing concerns about their health that ring with affectionate teasing.

Rey waves goodbye to both of them, then collapses behind Poe Dameron’s desk. The older man laughs at her, then waves to Luke and Kylo himself. “You look like hell, bonita,” he tell her, once the other two have gone. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Rey snorts and runs a hand over her face, willing away the headache that’s forming in her skull. “You can assume whatever you want,” she says. “Just let me sleep; I’m begging you.”

Poe makes a sympathetic noise, but does no such thing. He offers her what remains of his coffee. “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up last night,” he says. It takes Rey a moment to realize that he’s blushing. “Things got a little busier than I expected, and it took me a while to find my phone.”

“What gets busy past ten at night?” Rey asks. She takes a sip of his coffee and fights back a shudder; it’s clear that Poe has killed all of his taste buds.

If anything, Poe’s blush gets brighter. “It was nothing,” he says. “I don’t want to talk about it yet, alright?”

Rey, tired as she is, still manages to raise an eyebrow. “Okay,” she says with a shrug. “But you’re gonna have to tell me about it eventually.”

“Fine,” Poe huffs. “But that means you have to tell me why you ended up sleeping with Kylo Ren.”

“I wasn’t _sleeping with him_ ,” Rey insists. “I slept on his couch.”

“Same difference,” Poe says with a wink. “You could have called anyone else, though.”

“And I did,” Rey says. “No one else was picking up.”

Poe looks suspicious for all of a moment, but at Rey’s steady glare, he lets it go. “Whatever you say, bonita,” he tells her.

Rey rolls her eyes. “I have to go get lunch before group rehearsal,” she says. “And I’m meeting up with Finn along the way. Would you like the join us?”

A look comes over Poe’s face, half delighted, half…something else. Rey’s smile immediately drops into concern.

“I’d love to,” Poe says, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “But maybe not today, alright? You singer types go and take care of yourself; I’ll catch up with you some other time.”

Rey narrows her eyes. “You sure?”

“Positive.” Poe nods.

There’s something off about him now – he still waves when she goes to leave, but the slump of his shoulders makes her concerned. Rey goes out in search of Finn and finds him waiting in the lobby, leaning next to one of the tall windows.

“Hey, stranger,” she says, conjuring up a smile.

Finn jumps, as though Rey had startled him, and her concern grows all the more. “Oh, hey, Rey,” he says. “Look, I am so, so sorry I didn’t pick up last night, I just had to go to bed early –”

“It’s okay,” Rey says, placing her hand on top of his. “Really, I promise: it’s okay. I found a place to stay.”

“Good,” Finn sighs, a small smile playing around his lips. “Where did you end up going?”

Rey resists the urge to grimace; it seems the rumor mill hasn’t made its way around the theater yet. “Well,” she says, biting her lip. “I…stayed with Kylo?”

Finn blinks. His brow furrows. “Come again?”

Rey repeats herself. Finn looks torn between laughing and choking, and it does something funny to her stomach. When he doesn’t say anything, Rey moves to guide him out of the Coruscant. She links their arms together as they walk down the street, but the physical contact just seems to make his confusion worse.

“You spent the night at Kylo Ren’s,” he says. “As in, Kylo Ren. The guy you’ve been having passive aggressive and not-so-passive aggressive fights with for the past two months?”

“Yes,” Rey says with a nod. “And it was fine.”

This leaves Finn sputtering. “Fine? Fine?! Rey!”

“What?”

“This doesn’t make any sense!” The laugh Finn lets out sounds genuinely amused, but there’s distress growing around his eyes. “I mean, what? What?”

Rey can’t help it; she sighs. “Finn, I think you’re making a bigger deal out of this than necessary.”

“Maybe, maybe,” Finn nods. “But forgive me if I’m a little _shocked_ that you spent the night at KYLO REN’S.”

“Please don’t shout that,” Rey mutters. A passerby stares at them, her head tilted in sympathetic confusion.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Finn says. “I’m just a little surprised that he’s the one you went to.”

“Like I told Poe: he was the only one who answered his phone.”

Finn immediately looks away from her. He apologizes again, all while staring at his fingers, but Rey hardly hears him. She’s too distracted by the flush working its way over his cheeks, familiar but telling.

The pieces of the puzzle start to come together in her head, but Rey still proceeds with caution.

“Finn,” she says, interrupting what seems to be another apology. “What exactly was it that you were doing last night?”

If possible, Finn’s flush grows deeper. He glances around the street, then guides Rey into the diner that they usually frequent. Only after they’ve sat down in a booth does he explain.

When it comes down to it, Rey can’t say she’s surprised.

“So you slept with him,” she says with a shrug. “I’m happy for you, honestly.”

“Please don’t say that,” Finn says, dragging a hand down his face. “I was sleeping with someone and missed a phone call from you, and as consequence you had to go spend the night on a couch that belongs to someone you hate.”

“Okay, drama king,” Rey snorts. “First off: you’re not responsible for me. You’re more than welcome to have your own life –”

“You’re my best friend,” Finn interrupts. “I’m supposed to be there for you, like you’re there for me.”

Rey goes to speak, then hesitates. The look in Finn’s eye is more than disappointment in himself. There’s a tension there, and through the rest of him, that looks more like anger.

“Why is this upsetting you so much?” Rey asks, her voice much softer. “Tell me the truth.”

Some of the tension drains from Finn’s shoulders. He sags, for a moment, and plays with the straw in his glass of water. “What if –” he starts, then shakes his head. “I don’t want to abandon my best friend just because of some guy. I’m not sure how serious Poe is, anyway, and if it’s just going to be a fling, then I should have been there for you first.”

Rey presses her lips into a thin line. She hesitates, then reaches out and touches Finn’s hand. “Do you regret last night?”

“Yes,” Finn snaps. “Well, no. Kind of. I regret it because I couldn’t be there for you.”

Rey huffs out a laugh. “How many times am I going to have to tell you that it’s okay?”

“At least one more time,” Finn says. He lifts his hand to better hold onto Rey’s.

Rey squeezes his hand, then lets hers fall away. “I am an adult,” she tells him. “And while, yes, you are my best friend, I understand that you’re an adult, too. I know you’re not going to abandon me because of some guy. All I care about, regarding this, is that you’re happy.”

Finn goes to speak, but the diner waiter arrives with their food. He stares at her over a bowl of warm chili, then heaves out a sigh. “I think I could be,” he says. “I just – I don’t want him to be another Sidon, you know?”

“Oh, Finn,” Rey says. “I’m not saying you don’t have to worry about that, but I know for a fact that Sidon and Poe are nothing alike.”

“You say that now,” Finn says, pouting. “We’ll see what happens.”

Rey sighs, then lets the matter go. She digs into her own bowl of soup, enjoying the warmth against the gentle chill of the diner.

She’s nearly done with her meal when her phone rings. The apartment complex manager on the other end informs her that the leaks in her apartment have been patched and that maintenance is in the process of dredging up what water hasn’t frozen in her carpet.

The manager hesitates before continuing. “We’ll be covering some of the losses, of course,” he says. “And your monthly payments will not increase. However, if any of your personal items were damaged, it will be up to you to replace them.”

“Of course,” Rey huffs. She ends the call a few minutes later and turns back to two concerned faces. “It’s fine,” she says, waving them away. “Finn, if you’re still willing –”

“You are not going back there tonight,” Finn says. “We can go and get you another set of clothes, but that is it.”

Rey considers arguing, but decides that it’s not worth the fight. “Okay,” she says. “Thank you for doing this, though.”

“Hey, it’s no problem.” For the first time since they’ve arrived, Rey sees Finn smile.

They make it back to the Coruscant a few minutes before their group rehearsal is set to begin. Finn presses a kiss to Rey’s temple before they enter the reading room, then saunters in ahead of her, flashing everyone a dazzling smile. Rey follows behind with a not-so-subtle roll of her eyes. Kylo, per usual, has beaten the both of them there. When Finn goes off to talk to Ello and Snaps, Rey goes over to sit at Kylo’s side. He stares at her, wide-eyed, for one long moment, then goes back to analyzing his score.

Rey daintily crosses her legs and fishes out her own score. After a moment, she reaches down and grabs the pencil that lingers at the bottom of her case. She bites her lip as she begins to write, the rest of the room growing quite around her.

Luke hesitates in the door when he sees where she’s sitting, but Rey doesn’t notice. It’s only after a cough from Kylo that she bothers to look up at all. She smiles at Luke and offers him a wave, and she receives a wave in return. Luke looks pointedly at her neighbor and raises an eyebrow, but all Rey does is shrug.

“Seems we’re causing a scene,” she murmurs to Kylo. A glance around the room proves that she’s right: not only is Luke staring, but so is most of the cast. There are whispered conversations occurring in corners that neither she nor Kylo can hear, but Rey isn’t particularly inclined to care.

“You didn’t notice?” Kylo murmurs back. “I thought you did this on purpose.”

Rey is careful to keep her snort quiet. “Hardly.”

Kylo hums like he doesn’t quite believe her, but says nothing more. A few moments later, Luke calls for attention, and all of the stragglers make their ways to their seats.

Rey spends most of her time when Luke doesn’t have her singing staring at her score, going over the bars with gentle lines of pencil. She feels Kylo watching her when he thinks she can’t see him, but it doesn’t change how she moves. She reads through the score like a particularly good book, listening with half an ear as Luke comments on someone’s tone, or the blend of two or three voices.

It takes two or three calls for her to hear her own name. It takes a physical nudge from Kylo to get her to lift her head, and even then, Luke has to say her name again. Rey goes scurrying towards the piano, joining the production’s Meg Giry – Jessika Pava – at Luke’s side.

“Thank you for joining us,” Luke teases. “We only have a little time left, but I’d like to hear the two of you together before we go. Jessika tells me you haven’t had much time to practice together, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“It shouldn’t?” Rey asks, raising an eyebrow.

Across the stand, Jessika shrugs. “I may or may not have listened to some of your earlier recordings,” she admits. “Everyone knows you’ve been busy lately, so I didn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother if it’s for rehearsal,” Rey tells her. She goes to say more, but Luke gently interrupts to redirect their attention to the score.

“We’ll just be doing ‘Angel of Music’ today,” he says. “If the two of you want to take a moment to tune, you’re more than welcome to.”

Rey accepts the offer gladly. When their tuning is done, Luke gives them two bars, and then, they’re singing.

Compared to everything else she’s done, ‘Angel of Music’ is as easy as breathing. She and Jessika aren’t perfectly tuned into one another, but it’s a close thing; Rey reminds herself to commend the girl on her preparation. The moments where she gets to sing alone move along beautifully.

They divide the song into portions for some time before Luke has them sing the whole thing through. “Kylo,” he calls, glancing back towards the rest of the cast. “Can you add your spoken lines here?”

Kylo jumps, just as Rey had, and seems to shake himself before he responds. “Yeah, no problem.”

The look Luke gives him seems suspicious, but Rey’s too distracted by her score to notice. The notes on the piano summon her back to the present.

Jessika calls Christine’s name once, then twice, then waits. Kylo’s voice seems to come from the rafters, softer than Rey has ever heard it before. It makes her shiver, but she has no time to linger. Jessika’s hands are on her shoulders a moment later, and then they’re playing off one another, connecting in a way that only young girls can.

The song ends on a quivering note. Luke nods approvingly at both of the girls, then dismisses the rest of the cast. Rey waves goodbye to Jessika, then makes her way back to her seat. She catches a glimpse of Phasma as the woman leaves the room. Rey smiles at her, but Phasma is quick to turn away. Rey’s smile drops as she goes to collect her things. It’s been some time since she and Phasma went out; she wonders, idly, if she’s done something wrong.

She’s deep enough in thought as she puts away her things that she doesn’t notice Kylo lingering at her side. When she looks up, she has to resist the urge to leap away.

“Don’t you make any noise?” she demands.

To her surprise, Kylo snorts. “I haven’t moved,” he drawls. “And you seem more out of it than usual.”

“Do I?” Rey asks, kind despite her sarcastic tone. “That’s strange. I must not have slept that well last night.”

Kylo rewards her with his bark of a laugh, and Rey can’t help but smile. It’s not until he holds up a neon green bag that she realizes why he’s waited.

“My stuff!”

“You left it in my car,” Kylo says. “I thought about keeping it, in case we started arguing again, but there’s nothing here I have much use for.”

Rey _thinks_ that’s a joke, but she’s not one hundred percent sure. She offers a short chuckle before taking it from his hand and tossing it over her shoulder. “Thank you for giving it back,” she says “The only thing you could’ve gotten use out of would’ve been my foundation, and I think it’s too dark for you, anyway. Maybe find someone else’s things to raid?”

Kylo looks at her now, his face torn between affront and amusement. Rey smiles at him as she picks up her scores, only a hint of teasing tucked between her teeth. “Have a good rest of your day, Kylo,” she says as she turns to leave. “And thank you, again.”

She’s halfway through the room within the space of a heartbeat, her feet moving fast and her heart pounding. She’s too far away to hear his quiet “you’re welcome”, but she feels his eyes burning into her skin long after she’s left the rehearsal room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnote Confession: I actually really enjoyed the 2004 movie, as it was my first exposure to Phantom of the Opera, generally. The sword fighting in the graveyard felt just the right kind of campy intense, and the costumes throughout the whole thing? Gorgeous?
> 
> I hope that doesn't make you disdain me too much, dear reader. I did eventually see an actual stage production of the show, sans Gerard Butler. I may or may not have the 25th anniversary on DVD, as well.
> 
> Let me know what you thought, and have a happy new year!!


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is karaoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to the new year. I hope it's going well for you; seems to be about middling for me. Thank you for all the excited comments you left on the last chapter - they're getting along! Isn't it great? Now, who wants to take bets on how long it'll last? ;)
> 
> Enjoy! XOXO

The final performance of _Carmen_ draws in a full house. Rey reprises her role as Michaela at the request of both Marsha and Daisy – it is her last role, they say, before she plays Christine, and they want her to be able to celebrate it. Rey comes out at curtain call dressed in white, and though her lips may ache from smiling, her affection for the audience is worth the pain. She waits for Phasma to appear and take her final bow, then offers the crowd one final curtsey before retreating backstage. The roses that have landed on stage go primarily to Phasma, but one in particular – a white one – has made its way into Rey’s dark hair.

She leaves her dress to hang in the dressing room and dons jeans once more, but leaves the white rose tucked behind her ear. Backstage is full of people clapping each other on the back, the thrill of the last performance leaving emotions high. Rey steps out of her dressing room and catches a glimpse of both Poe and Finn deep in conversation with the man playing Don Jose, laughing about something that she can’t hear. She moves to go to them until a familiar blonde flash catches her eye.

“Hey, Phasma!” she calls. The taller woman turns around, then waits as Rey comes running to her side. “Great job tonight,” Rey says with a smile.

“I do try,” Phasma says with a nonchalant shrug. She looks over Rey’s shoulder, glancing at Poe and Finn, but then looking further. “Your friend Jessika is not here,” she says, her voice the same neutral color.

Rey tilts her head, her smile twisting a little. “Should she be?” she asks. “I mean, we’re not even really friends yet, so I don’t know if she would even want to be here.”

“She’s one of the swings,” Phasma says smoothly. “Did you not notice?”

Rey’s smile slips again. “No.” She hesitates, watching a brief twitch pass over Phasma’s face. “Phasma, is something wrong?”

“Of course not,” Phasma says, a little too quickly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Right,” Rey says slowly. She glances behind her and catches Poe’s eye. “We don’t have to talk about it, then,” she says, turning back to look at Phasma. “But: are you doing to the cast party tonight?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” Phasma says, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “Something about me being the lead character makes cast parties mandatory.”

Rey almost laughs, but manages to turn it into a cough. “Come on, then,” she says, nodding towards the back door. “Marsha’s going to give one of her post-production speeches, and then we can get to the real fun of the night.”

“Sounds like a plan.” To her great relief, Rey sees Phasma fight back a smile. They walk out the back door together and into Coruscant’s staff parking lot. A crowd has already gathered, and Marsha, the stage director, has commandeered the back of someone else’s pickup truck. It’s still chilly, but not unbearable; the coat she slipped on over her ratty band t-shirt is more than enough to keep her warm. All the same, she spots Finn and Poe huddled close together, Poe’s jacket resting on Finn’s shoulders.

Marsha stamps on the metal of the pickup truck, and the crowd goes mostly silent.

“My dear friends!” she calls, spreading out her arms. “It has been an excellent two weeks and an excellent eighteen performances. You all have my deepest gratitude and sincerest affection for the smashing reviews we have already received.”

Light applause fills the crowd.

“And now,” Marsha decrees. “Let us go forth! Maz Kanata’s Castle knows we’re coming, and the first round of drinks is on the house!”

The applause is no longer polite but uproarious. Rey catches Finn’s eye from across the crowd and beams at him. Tomorrow is Sunday, their one day off this week, and if people are going to be buying them all drinks, well – maybe Phasma had the right idea, after all.

The crowd starts to break up at once. There’s no organization to who goes off with who; it becomes a race to see who can get to the bar the fastest. Rey is about to make her way over to her friends when Phasma catches her by the arm. “Come on, Kenobi,” she says, offering her the smallest of grins. “You’re riding with me.”

Rey hesitates, then shrugs. The energy in the air is contagious; she looks back long enough to wave at her friends, then lets Phasma whisk her away through the parking lot. Phasma’s silver car is just coming into sight when a figure detaches itself from the crowd and makes its way over to their side.

“Rey!” Jessika calls. “Phasma!”

Phasma’s grip on Rey’s arm tightens, for a moment, but she lets go a moment later.

“Hello, Jessika,” Rey says. “What did you think of the show tonight?”

“Disappointed that I wasn’t performing, but glad I was there to see it,” Jessika says. “You two are going to Maz’s, right?”

“Of course.”

“Can I catch a ride with you? None of my friends want to go out tonight.”

Rey hesitates, then casts a wary look at Phasma. The taller woman makes a point of not looking at either of them as she continues towards her car.

“Phasma?” Rey calls, hurrying after her. It may be a trick of the parking lot lights, but she thinks she sees the slightest tinge of red on Phasma’s face.

“You can come,” Phasma grunts as she slides into her car. Behind her, Jessika cheers, then hurries to catch up. Rey claims shotgun while Jessika takes to the back, all the while looking between her friend and the lot before her.

“You okay?” she asks, careful to keep her voice low. Phasma doesn’t respond, only nods. Rey bites her lip, but lets it go, buckling her seat as Phasma’s engine comes roaring to life.

The ride to Maz’s Castle is unbearably awkward. Rey resists the urge to rub her forehead and sigh. She sends a silent prayer up to the universe, instead – _Please_ , she thinks, as she sees Phasma glance at Jessika in the rearview mirror, _Please, please, please stop putting me in the middle of these things; do you know how much I hate third wheeling?_

The universe doesn’t answer.

They are the fourth car to arrive in Maz’s parking lot, though the sidewalk is full of over-excited performers making their way inside. Maz’s is one of the finer establishments in the city that can also claim ownership of a karaoke machine – most places can only claim one or the other, and Rey’s yet to encounter another place that manages its class as well as Maz’s. She goes clambering out of the car just in time to see Finn and Poe making their way down the street. She says a quick goodbye to Phasma before she goes chasing after them, pushing her way through the crowd until she goes stumbling into the street.

“Rey!”

“¡Bonita!”

Rey is swept into a hug at once, lifted off her feet and spun as Poe Dameron sings her praises. When he sets her down, Finn swoops in to press a kiss to her cheek.

“You abandoned us for Phasma?” he asks, a moment later. “Was walking really that much trouble?”

“Oh, stop it,” Rey says, disarming his puppy dog face in a moment. “I’ll buy you both drinks tonight, and then you’ll forgive me like you always do.”

“I’ll never argue with the lady who’s buying,” Poe agrees. He slips his arm around hers while Finn does the same, and the three of them go marching into the bar like royalty amongst the bubbling crowd.

They procure a booth for themselves, then give their drink orders to an already-exhausted waiter. Finn and Poe immediately launch themselves into conversation, and while Rey tries to keep up, she can’t help but find herself distracted.

Kylo Ren is moving awkwardly with the crowd. He towers over most of his fellow performers and looks out of place amongst them, but he’s moving, all the same, and has his head bowed as he holds conversation with Armitage Hux. Rey cocks her head and smiles before returning her attention to her boys; it’s good, she supposes, to see him out and about.

Their morning and afternoon practices have continued, of course, and there’s much less shouting than there used to be, but things have become…awkward. The more Rey tries to coax Kylo into conversation, the more he seems to shy away from her. The man who once went toe to toe with her about character motivation seems to have retreated into himself, and Rey’s not sure if she likes it. Some small part of her wants to pick a fight with him, just to see how he’ll react, but cooler heads have thus far prevailed.

That said, tonight is not the night for a cool head.

The dance floor is full of people Rey recognizes in passing, though the music isn’t earsplittingly loud. Someone is singing off in a corner, but then again, why wouldn’t they be – long day or not, Rey has yet to meet a member of the Coruscant who can resist karaoke.

She’s not entirely sure how it happens, but before she’s finished even the first of her drinks, Poe and Finn have taken her by the arms and dragged her over to watch Jessika Pava perform some of ABBA’s greatest hits. Rey does her best not to spill her drink as she cheers the girl on, but some of the liquid falls to the floor anyway.

Finn catches her pouting and claps a hand down on her shoulder. “Don’t worry!” he shouts, his voice nearly drown out by Jessika’s well-earned applause. “The next round is on the Solo family. I heard that Leia sent some money ahead.”

Beside him, Rey sees Poe cheer. She laughs and rolls her eyes, then sets her near empty glass on the nearest table.

Phasma is hovering by the stage, she sees, watching Jessika as she makes her way back into the crowd of artists. Rey shimmies through the crowd and touches her friend’s arm. Phasma’s eyes widen in surprise, but she does her best to cover it.

“Are you having fun?” Rey asks.

“Something like that,” Phasma says. The two of them glance back towards the stage to find Finn wrapped around one of the karaoke machine’s microphones along with a young man Rey only knows as Zeros. She glances upward in time to see Phasma’s gaze wander back into the crowd, no doubt seeking Jessika.

She starts to look around herself only for her eyes to catch on a hulking form leaning against Maz’s bar. When the music starts again and Kylo lifts his head, she forces herself to look away.

Finn and Zeros sing one song, then a few chorus girls sing another, and somewhere in between Rey has two more drinks pressed into her hands. As the two chorus girls take their final bows, Rey surprises herself by taking Phasma’s hand. Phasma looks down at her with a furrowed brow, but Rey doesn’t stop moving. She pushes through the crowd and drags Phasma up onto the karaoke stage with a drink still in her hand.

“What are you doing?!” Phasma has to shout to be heard over the cheers, but Rey pretends not to hear her. She scrolls through a selection of show tunes before choosing one at random, then passes her drink over to someone standing nearby. She offers Phasma a dazzling smile and is rewarded with a scowl.

Finn hoots, his face lost in the dark crowd, and then lyrics are plastering themselves to the karaoke machine’s too-small screen.

Rey’s never considered herself a Galinda-esque kind of person, but she wrings up her hands and delivers the most convincing introduction to “Loathing” that she can possibly manage. She’s not sure if it’s the drinks or some streak of good nature, but Phasma doesn’t leave her hanging. Her voice, even when they’re singing, if full of disgruntled amusement, and she, more often than Rey, is the one who leaves their audience laughing.

The thing about bringing most of a theater cast to a karaoke bar is this: even when they’re drunk, the singing is phenomenal.

The song comes to a glorious close, Phasma’s over-delivered “boo!” just loud enough to send Rey stumbling backwards, giggling all the while. The two women take short bows, then scramble off of the stage. Before she can disappear into the crowd, Rey feels Phasma gently elbow her in the side.

“You owe me a drink, Rey,” Phasma says, but her smile holds no malice.

Rey grins back at her and shrugs. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

A moment later they’re set upon by Rey’s friends, all of them shouting gibberish that makes no sense. Rey throws back her head and laughs before letting them drag her away.

The bulk of the night becomes something of a blur. Rey finds herself staring into the crowd while Finn and Jessika talk and while Phasma hovers, interjecting the conversation with things that sound like cool facts but feel more like flirting. She can’t remember whether or not she’s looking for someone, but it feels like she is. The crowd of people around her is too bouncy for her to pinpoint anyone in particular, though, and she’s too happy to let some thoughtless niggling distract her.

A clock, somewhere, chimes out some late hour, and Rey finds herself laid out across a booth with her head on Jessika’s shoulder.

“The shadows are moving,” she says, but she’s not sure anyone hears her. An hour’s passed since she had her last drink, and she can start to feel her head again, but her legs are still unsteady.

One shadow in particular shifts, and it catches her eye. She watches as the shadow lingers. Rey sits up as it starts to move away and decides that she wants to chase it.

“Where are you going?” Jessika asks as she starts to pull away.

“I’m not sure,” Rey calls back. “The bathroom, I think. Don’t worry!”

It’s not entirely a lie; there could be a bathroom hiding in the shadows. Maybe not in her shadow, specifically, but Jessika lets her go with a fond laugh. “Don’t get lost,” she says. “We’re thinking about leaving soon.”

Rey makes a noise that sounds affirmative and then begins her hunt.

The shadow stops for a moment when it sees her following it, but it’s quick to disappear, after. Rey furrows her brow and pushes through what remains of the night crowd as she follows. The world feels slightly sideways, and her feet feel sloppy, but her pursuit is undeterred. She goes until the dance floor narrows out into a hallway and her hands find the handle of Maz’s front door.

Rey gasps as she thrusts herself into the cold winter air. It hits her head first, and while it doesn’t quite clear her out, it does work wonders. Her shadow, she realizes, isn’t a shadow at all, and is now leaning against Maz’s front window with his hands held in front of his mouth. He looks at her with an expression she can’t quite describe as she lets the door fall closed behind her.

“What are you doing out here, Rey?”

“I don’t know.” She brings her hands up and rubs her arms, fighting back a round of shivers. “What are you doing out here?”

Kylo Ren – her shadow – almost smiles. “It was too loud,” he says. “And I’m bad with people.”

“Well, yeah,” Rey says with a nod. She comes and rests herself at his side. There’s a loose string coming off the shoulder of his jacket; without a thought, she lifts a hand and starts to pick at it. When it becomes harder to grab, she looks up to find him laughing.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she says, stomping her foot against the ground.

“Why not?” Kylo asks. To his credit, he tries to hide his smile from her, but it doesn’t work all too well. “You laugh at me all the time.”

“Yeah, because you’re funny,” Rey huffs.

“And you think you’re not?” Kylo’s teeth glow in the black light of night, sharp and pointed. Rey remembers a moment quite like this, though she can’t remember when it was, or why she’d felt the need to be afraid. She’s not afraid now.

“I’m not as funny as you,” she says, a moment too late.

Kylo shakes his head. It takes Rey a moment to focus in on the motion, to focus in on his face. She knows she’s staring, but it doesn’t matter. Kylo doesn’t seem to mind.

“Rey,” he says, and is it her, or has his voice gotten deeper? “Go back inside.”

“I don’t want to,” Rey says, crossing her arms. “I want to stay out here with you.”

There’s a noise that sounds like laughter, but it’s far too sad. “No, you don’t,” Kylo says. “You don’t like me all that much, Rey.”

“That’s not true!” Rey insists. “I mean, are we best friends? No. But you’re not a bad guy.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Kylo huffs. His breath makes a cloud in the cold winter air, and for a moment, Rey’s distracted.

“You’re really not,” she says, a moment later. She doesn’t look him in the face, just follows the puff of his breath as it disappears into the night. “A bad guy wouldn’t have let me stay over at his house. A bad guy would’ve left me to turn into a popsicle in my Titanic of an apartment.”

“That’s one act.” Kylo lifts a hand to fist it through his hair, but Rey manages to grab it before he does. She tangles their fingers together and forces him to look at her, all the while noticing that Kylo’s gone terribly, terribly still.

The speech she has building up in the back of her throat dies when she sees the look on his face. It’s…not fear, exactly, but a twin, or a close cousin. Rey forces herself to swallow her words and squeezes Kylo’s hand, instead, hoping that he’ll get whatever point it is she’s making.

Kylo’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and for a moment, she’s fascinated.

“You know,” she says, soft enough that she could be talking to herself. “I think I know why you went into theater.”

Kylo twitches, just barely, but Rey can feel tension pouring off of his skin. “Yeah?” he rumbles. His free hand comes around and, after a moment, covers hers entirely. For a moment, Rey thinks he’s going to pry her off, but instead his hand remains. “Why?”

Several instances come to mind: his shouting with Leia, his storming about, all of their fights in too small practice rooms. Rey watches the corners of Kylo’s face and sees the mask fall away; she wonders in the back of the mind if she’s ever seen his real face before.

Her fingers dance out to touch Kylo’s wrist. His pulse pounds beneath her touch, and she’s nearly rendered speechless.

“Because you’re a drama king.” The words fall out of her mouth with an ease she does not feel, but Rey manages to smile, anyway.

For a moment, the air between the two of them is still. Then Kylo’s chest begins to shake. Rey stares at it, fascinated, before her gaze is forced up to his face.

Kylo Ren is _giggling_. _Giggling_. There’s no other word for it. He looks away from her as though to hide it, but he doesn’t remove his hands from hers; he _laughs_ , and he lets her see. Rey feels, for a moment, like she’s intruding on something, but then he casts his gaze back to her and she’s rendered hopelessly still.

If she was cold before, she doesn’t notice it now.

Kylo’s eyes are still glowing, but his mouth grows soft. He bends down, his hands gentle on hers and his face half cast in shadow, half cast in light.

“Rey.”

Her name is full of laughter and something else, but Rey doesn’t dare name it. She doesn’t dare move as he leans in closer, some errant strand of his hair blowing in the wind to brush over her nose. It takes her a moment to remember to breath, and even then, he’s too close, much, much too close.

“Rey.”

She sees his eyes drift shut; their noses touch, and –

The door to Maz’s Castle slams open. Rey leaps away from Kylo so quickly that she nearly trips off of the sidewalk. Kylo’s hand lashes out and drags her back, pressing her against his chest so she can’t see who’s interrupted them.

“Rey?” Finn’s familiar voice breaks through the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears. “Rey, is that you?”

Rey clears her throat and glances up at Kylo. His mask has slipped back into place; he lets her go and brushes some invisible dust particles from the front of his jacket while she makes her way back to her friends.

“Yeah, hi,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck. “Are we all ready to go?”

Finn raises an eyebrow and looks over to Kylo. “Didn’t see much of you tonight,” he says, his voice unerringly friendly.

“Yeah.” It’s more of a huff than it is a word. “I didn’t think I’d stay this long. In fact –” Rey feels his gaze glance over her once before he turns away. “I was just heading out.”

Finn opens his mouth to say goodbye, but Kylo’s already gone. Rey turns and watches him go, something full and cold settling over her previously warm chest. When she looks back to Finn, it’s to find him staring, but not down the street. With a sigh, he shakes his head.

“Peanut, peanut, peanut,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “What am I going to do with you?”

Before Rey can say a word – not that she knows what to say – Poe bursts out of the bar. He stumbles a little but manages to right himself, then beams at his two friends.

“Jessika’s getting a ride home from Phasma,” he says. He presses himself to Rey’s other side, careful to keep his arm from brushing Finn’s as he wraps it around her. “I left my car at the Coruscant, and I’m not walking back, so I’m thinking we call a taxi.”

Rey nods as a sudden wave of exhaustion overtakes her. Finn says something over her head, but she yawns and presses herself deeper into the two men’s heat. She doesn’t see the fond looks they give her, but it seems to soften something between the both of them.

They don’t have to wait long for the taxi to arrive. Rey tucks herself against Finn’s broad chest and closes her eyes as Poe clambers in behind them. The terrible little car heater isn’t enough to drive the chill from her fingers, but it goes to work on her toes. The warmth, along with Finn’s gentle fingers carding through her hair, nearly sends her to sleep before she’s even arrived home.

Both men help her up the stairs to her apartment, their arms slung underneath her shoulders. Rey kisses one, then the other, before sending them on their way. She watches until their taxi has disappeared from sight, then moves to head inside. After several minutes of trying to fit the wrong key into the lock, she manages to stumble over the threshold and straight into her couch.

Her dreams, that night, are full of darkness, but it’s a darkness that seems to glow from within. She doesn’t remember them when she wakes the next morning, but then again, she rarely does.

The universe calls to collect when she wakes on Sunday, anyway. Rey opens her eyes and finds that the sun has moved into her apartment and that her head is threatening to split open; she hasn’t had a hangover this bad in _years_. She pulls one of the couch pillows over her head and prays for the pain to stop, grumbling all the while about singers and booze and _absolutely awful decisions._

It takes two doses of pain pills to help her leave the couch and half a carton of orange juice to let her see the light of day. Rey curls up on the couch in a nest of blankets, cradling her phone in one hand and the carton in the other. She’s managed to avoid drunk dialing anyone, it seems, but there are more than a few pictures on her phone that hadn’t been there the day before.

It’s around three in the afternoon when she gets her first text from Poe.

<< Poe Dameron:

You awake, bonita? >>

She can’t help but smile; even on her worst days, at least someone is complimenting her.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Yeha, yeah, I’m awake. Whaddaya want? >>

<< Poe Dameron:

I wanna talk about last night >>

Rey furrows her brow and tries to think. She can’t remember anything devious happening, but it’s not due to lack of memories - in fact, she’s pretty sure Kylo Ren’s pulse has been burnt into her hand. She shakes her head, groans at the dizziness, and then tries to answer.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Not syre wat you mean? >>

<< Poe Dameron:

I…went home with Finn again. >>

Rey sighs with relief.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Oh, is that it? I thought someone fell into the sewer or something. >>

<< Poe Dameron:

What? Lol. >>

<< Poe Dameron:

No, no. Just…I think…I love him? >>

Rey’s heart warms at once. She cradles her phone to her chest and smiles softly. It’s not been long since Sidon, but that’s alright. If Finn wants to take his time, he can. Poe is a good man, or so she thinks; with any luck, he’s also a patient one.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Is that a bad thing? >>

<< Poe Dameron:

Well, no, but… >>

<< Poe Dameron:

It’s just…kinda nerve wracking, you know? >>

Rey furrows her brow.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Whaddaya mean? >>

<< Poe Dameron:

I just…I wanna be good for him >>

<< Poe Dameron:

He deserves so much and he’s gone through so much shit. >>

<< Poe Dameron:

I don’t want to be another guy in a lineup of exes, you know? >>

Rey hums, then sets her phone aside for a moment. She takes a swig from her carton of orange juice and lies back on the couch before answering.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Don’t worry, Poe. You’re no Sidon. >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

As long as he loves you back, what’ve you got to worry about? >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

Enjoy what you have now. There’ll be time for worrying later. >>

It strings a little as she sets her phone aside, but Rey does her best to ignore it. She hasn’t been on a date in…months, maybe even a year; she hasn’t had a serious relationship since the conservatory, and she _knows_ that didn’t go well. Poe’s nerves are endearing, but they make her heart ache in a way she’s not ready to think about yet.

<< Poe Dameron:

Rey Kenobi, when did you get so wise? >>

Rey laughs aloud.

<< Rey Kenobi:

A bunch of time single will do that to you. >>

<< Poe Dameron:

Well hey, if Kylo keeps looking at you the way he does, you may not have to be single for long. >>

Rey, in the middle of a sip of orange juice, has to force herself not to choke. She sets the rest of the carton aside and spends a minute trying not to sputter across the keyboard.

<< Rey Kenobi:

WHAT?! >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

Don’t even suggest things like that, geez. >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

You nearly killed me. >>

<< Poe Dameron:

Why? It’s true. >>

<< Poe Dameron:

I mean, come on. There’s been a betting pool for _months_ , Rey. _Months_.  >>

Rey feels something terrible building in her chest, something terrible and immediate that makes her want to cry. She pulls one of her blankets more tightly across her lap and fights back another wave of pain as she sends a final text to Poe.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Nothing’s going on, Poe, and even if there was, I wouldn’t want to talk about it. >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

<< I’m going to sleep off this hangover. We can deal with your love life in a little while, and my love life later. Or never. Preferably never. >>

She’s not quite asleep by the time Poe responds, but it’s a near thing. All the same, she doesn’t bother picking up her phone and reading the message. The thought of Kylo Ren – no. No. It’s just not possible. After everything that’s gone on between them during these past few months – no. He’s neutral towards her at best and hates her at worst (though it’s funny, she can’t pinpoint when that option became “worst”). She remembers him brushing past her in the cold of the night before and shivers while her heart flip flops in her chest.

No. Poe, in his recent love-struck state, is seeing things.

Sunday takes on a dark, lazy hue as Rey drifts back to sleep, and her memories from the night before begin to blur. They turn yellow and hazy, with a dash of shadowy blur; when she wakes, Rey remembers seeing a figure retreating into the darkness, though she can’t pinpoint who or what it was.

Poe’s message is still waiting for her when she opens her eyes.

Poe’s message is waiting for her when she wakes.

<< Poe Dameron:

You can say that all you want, sweetheart, but running away from the truth won’t make it any better. >>

“What truth?” Rey grumbles, smacking the sleep from her mouth. “The truth is that nothing’s happening, Poe Dameron, and that is that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Phasma the tsundere. That's a thing.  
> 2\. These characters continue to drink waaaay too much for actual performers, but that's the power of fanfiction, folks. Though poor Rey and her hangover - no fun at all.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey has an extremely difficult time dealing with all of her emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On one hand, I'm excited for some of the development that occurs in this chapter. On the other...well....*sends sympathetic glance towards Rey*
> 
> I think you're really going to like Chapter 14, folks. In the meanwhile, raise a glass to struggling romance. XOXO

Monday comes, as Mondays tend to do, and announces itself with assorted gossip as Rey enters the Coruscant. The story of her impromptu duet with Phasma seems to have made the rounds; she can hear the recording playing off of one of her fellow performer’s phone, and more than one of the chorus members is humming ‘Loathing’ under their breath. Rey rubs her temples and vows to search for the video after morning rehearsal – then to delete it at its source.

She presses herself up against the wall of a long, beige hallway as a troop of technicians walk past, the last of _Carmen_ ’s props finding their way back to their various homes. _Cosi Fan Tutte_ is next in the lineup, and while Rey’s not performing in it, Finn is. She makes a mental note to pick a show of his to visit as the techs walk by. Once the hallway is clear, she resumes her walk towards Coruscant’s practice rooms.

To her lack of surprise, Poe is behind the desk, his eyes flicking between the clock and the hallway. He lifts a hand and waves when he sees her, but otherwise doesn’t move from behind the best.

“There you are,” he says. “I’m surprised you’re not running later. Sounds like you had a rough day yesterday.”

“Yeah, but I slept most of it off.” Rey shrugs. “Anything today can just be blamed on typical Monday grump.”

“Amen.” Poe nods. “Luke left a message for you, by the way. He says that once you’ve warmed up, he wants to see you in the dance practice rooms. Apparently you’re starting blocking today.”

Rey can’t help the smile that comes across her face. “Are you serious?”

“‘Course I’m serious,” Poe says, schooling his face. His Luke Skywalker impression falls apart the moment Rey begins to laugh. “Get going, girl. Looks like you’re in for a fun day.”

Rey continues to beam as she swipes her room keys from Poe’s open hand. On a whim, she leans over the receptionist desk and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Poe,” she says before she walks away.

“Anytime, bonita!” Poe calls. Rey giggles, then unlocks the door to her favorite practice room and slips inside.

If her morning warm ups are a little bit rushed, well, who’s to know but her? The idea of working with real props, of getting their work up on stage – or, at least, measured out in a practice room – make her skin tingle. Rey misses a note of her scale and forces herself to breathe in, long and slow, before beginning it again.

Shows feel _real_ once the blocking begins, and the pressure of the role – of _Christine Daae_ – settles back down on Rey’s too-small shoulders.

Poe laughs at her when she returns her room key not twenty minutes later. He waves as she goes rushing towards the hall, but Rey only spares him a glance and a smile. She dances around her fellow performers as she makes her way towards the dance hall practice rooms, gliding like one of the house’s professional ballerinas.

She hesitates for a moment when the practice room comes into view. Through the room’s one sided glass, she can see Luke, unhindered by a stand, and some of the chorus mulling around in the front of the room. Her heart rises in her chest, but she forces herself to breathe and pushes through the heavy door. Luke turns and greets her with a smile.

“Ah, Rey! There you are.” He motions her to a spot just off of his left side. “I was wondering if Dameron would pass along my message or if he’d try to keep you.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Rey says. She catches Luke’s wink and playfully rolls her eyes as she sets her bag down on the floor.

“We’ll be working on ‘Hannibal’ today,” Luke says, motioning towards the rest of the present cast. “You’ll be over with the chorus girls for now. I believe we’ll bring get one of the staff, maybe Bing Lee, to teach you some simple dance moves so you can blend in with the rest of them, but the real work will be left to the actual dancers.”

“That is fine by me,” Rey says with a laugh. “Do you think I’ll be doing any singing today?”

“Well, eventually, of course,” Luke says. “But I believe it will be mostly Miss Phasma.”

“Makes sense.” Rey shrugs and begins to make her way towards the back of the room. She catches sight of Jessika chatting with one of the house ballerinas and does her best to mask any disappointment she may feel. Singing or not, she’s finally moving, and that’s worth as much as a regular practice to her.

“Bad news,” Jessika says, the moment Rey settles into her little group. “We’re going back for costume measurements while Phasma does her thing.”

Rey tries not to wilt, but Jessika’s sympathetic look tells her that she fails.

“You haven’t even seen the costumes yet,” she says, leaning in. “Boobs. _Everywhere._ I mean, it’s fine if you’re a dancer n’all, but me?”

Despite herself, Rey laughs. “You’ll look fine,” she says, swatting Jessika’s shoulder. “Maybe they’ll give us a little extra padding, just in case it gets cold.”

She and Jessika exchange brief giggles just as Luke calls for the attention of the room. He sends the chorus girls ‘up stage’ as best he can, leaving the newly arrived Phasma standing tall and alone in the front of the room. Her stance is strong, her shoulders loose, and she looks so at ease that for one wild moment Rey finds herself jealous. She glances over at Jessika to catch the girl’s reaction and only finds her blushing. The moment passes, and Rey offers her young friend a warm smile.

Luke moves among the crowd before he allows Phasma to sing. He pokes and prods at every member of the cast, redirecting them into new positions whenever he finds a particular one unsatisfying. His sister comes creeping through the door before Phasma’s even begun and joins him soon after, though her touch is much sterner than her brother’s. Rey has a moment to glance in her direction after she arrives, and receives a wink for her efforts, but nothing more and nothing less.

When Luke and Leia are finally content, Leia moves to her place just off stage. Luke looks to Phasma, amusement twinkling in his eyes, and asks, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” the majority of the cast replies. Phasma turns back and glares at all of them before responding with a “yes” of her own. Luke chuckles and taps his baton against the nearest music stand. He cues the pianist, then turns to Phasma, ready for her to begin.

Rey catches a glimpse of Phasma’s smirk in the practice room mirror and has to duck her head so Luke doesn’t see her smiling.

The first broad note of ‘Hannibal’ carries through the room. Phasma’s voice hangs in the air, just barely tinted with the pretension that Carlotta is known for. When her solo comes to an end, she flounces stage left – so out of character for the _real_ Phasma that Rey has to hide her laughter yet again.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Jessika whispers in her ear. Rey glances at her out of the corner of her eye and nods, busying herself with watching Jessika’s face. The girl watches Phasma’s every step, even as Hux steps forward to take the stage as Piangi. Rey almost smiles, but loses the expression to a wince – Hux’s Italian accent is a struggling thing, but it works for the character. She catches sight of Luke covering a laugh as the arrival of their Andre and Firmin cuts Hux off.

The mood carries throughout what little of the blocking Rey manages to see – ‘Hannibal’ is just restarting when she and the rest of the chorus get plucked away from the stage and taken back to the costuming department. By the time they emerge, the rest of the cast is clearing out. Luke, still sitting by his music stand, motions her forward, a content smile resting on his face.

“We’ll get to your dancing tomorrow,” he says with a wink. “But I thought we could do some independent work in here today, too. My sister has run off to find Kylo, so you have anywhere from two to ten minutes to warm up, if you like.”

Rey shakes her head, her smile shrinking by a few degrees. She’s certain to turn away before it fades completely.

She paces the taped-out outline of the stage while she waits for Kylo to arrive. Her warm up is soft but firm, and she catches Luke looking at her approvingly in the practice room mirror. She raises an eyebrow at him, and he looks away, busying himself with his scores.

She’s just finished the bulk of her scales when Leia reappears in the room. Kylo lags behind her, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed low. It takes Rey a moment to realize that this is not simply his normal angst; he and Leia keep their heads close together, and she catches snippets of words that she can barely weave together. The two of them only look up when Luke clears his throat. Leia offers both Rey and her brother a tight smile and a shrug; Kylo nods but gives them nothing more.

A flush threatens to break out over Rey’s face, but she fights it down.

“Glad to see you two,” Luke says. “Leia, will you be staying with us today?”

“I think so.” Leia nods. “It’s been too long since I’ve had an instructional meeting with Rey, anyway.”

Rey’s laugh is nervous, but she doesn’t think either of her mentors notice. Kylo, however, narrows his eyes at her. Rey catches his glance and only shrugs.

“It’ll be mostly blocking today, since we have the space,” Luke says. “But I was thinking that we could run the title song, if my two artists are so inclined.”

“You mean it’s up for debate?” Rey says with a smile.

Luke rolls his eyes and swats her away. “Go find a mark,” he says. “You, too, Kylo. I think we’ll be having you move over the catwalk for this first bit, so you’ll just be pacing for now.”

“Do you want me to lure her through the mirror or not?”

“Not today.” Luke shakes his head. “We’ll keep things simple for now. If we have time when we’re done, we’ll see what else we can do.”

Kylo and Rey both nod. She looks back and watches as he settles himself just out of sight, stage right; after he’s positioned himself, she goes to join him. He looks uncomfortable as she flutters in the space next to him, but he’s quick to mask it. Rey quirks an eyebrow at him, then reaches out, ready to take his hand.

The brush of his fingers against her wrist almost – _almost_ – makes her jump. She sees Kylo fight back the beginnings of a smirk.

“I was thinking,” he says, in a voice far too professional. “You could follow my lead?”

Rey wants to say something witty, some wiry retort, but her throat has closed up and her voice has abandoned her. Instead, she nods.

Kylo’s hand is large enough to encompass her entire wrist without effort. His grip is so loose that it’s like he doesn’t want to touch her, though it looks, from a distance, as though he’s holding her firm. Rey swallows down a feeling like stone in her chest and pulls herself back into the moment. When she looks to Luke for her cue, it’s to find him hiding the smallest of smiles.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Rey rolls her eyes at the man in a vain attempt at detachment, but she knows in a moment that it doesn’t convince him. Luke turns away and motions towards the pianist, who, in turn, strikes the first bars of the song out on their piano.

It’s only the gentle squeeze from Kylo that reminds Rey that she sings first.

Her first notes come out clear and only slightly louder than she means them to, but Rey decides to blame that on her nerves. She can’t see her own face – the blocking has her looking up at Kylo, though she’s fixed her attention on the tip of his nose. Even so, it takes far too many bars for her to realize that the scene has shifted. The room around her fades away, and for a moment, she’s not Rey, she’s Christine. She’s enchanted by the man in front of her, touched by the gentleness of his hand, and she is willing, strangely, to let him guide her along.

When he starts to sing, her breath catches in her chest.

It feels real for one long moment, his dark eyes burning into hers (she wonders, idly, when she forgot to look away). Then Luke cuts in, calling for them to stop.

“Not a bad first run,” he says with a clap of his hands. Kylo’s hand falls from Rey’s wrist in a second, and Rey is snapped out of her trance.

In the moment that follows, she closes her eyes and take a deep breath through her nose. She is a professional. She can handle this. She repeats this mantra to her until Luke says her name. When she opens her eyes, it’s to find Kylo’s dark gaze lingering on her as he stares out of the corner of his eye.

The next forty minutes of practice are a trembling hell. Something’s gone wrong in Rey’s stomach, though she knows it’s not a sickness; it’s more a nausea, though one that Rey has neither time nor patience to understand. Her wrist burns whenever Kylo takes it, no matter how gentle his touch is.

It’s the gentleness that makes Rey angry. It must show on her face, or in how she sings, because she sees something shift in Kylo’s gaze. The next run through finds him yanking her after him, his hand like a shackle and his eyes dark – not with anger, though, Rey realizes, but with something far more terrible.

It feels like years before Luke lets them stop. Out of breath, Rey still manages to take two determined steps away from Kylo Ren while Luke shuffles his things behind his music stand. The air is thick as it comes into her lungs, and she finds herself breathing like she’s run a marathon.

A hand comes to rest on her shoulder. Rey glances backwards and sees Leia looking at her with concern written into her wrinkles. “Are you feeling alright?” she murmurs.

“What?” Rey forces a laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just – adjusting, I suppose.” It’s a terrible excuse and she knows it; _Carmen_ took more energy than this rehearsal did, and she managed that every other night. Leia lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t question her further. Her hand drops from Rey’s shoulder as she goes to interrogate her brother.

Rey sees Luke break from his conversation with Kylo to turn to his sister, his face gently pleased. Kylo takes a step away from his family and looks about the room until his eyes land on her. A wave of heat rushes over her body, and nausea takes hold of Rey’s stomach once more. She looks away and brings an idle hand to her forehead, feeling for some change in temperature – the only explanation for this is the flu, and she’s already dealt with that this year.

Luke, when he motions her over, raises an eyebrow, but his smile remains in place. “Excellent work so far,” he says. “I think we’ve laid good groundwork for this scene. Once more of the scenery is available we’ll be able to expand on what we have – they’re laying the tracks for the boat as we speak, so I suspect we’ll be doing this again in the near future.”

“Sounds good,” Rey says, forcing a smile. “Does that mean we’re done for the day?”

Luke doesn’t quite laugh at her, but she can tell he wants to. Kylo flashes her a look that’s almost amused, and Leia – Leia continues to look concerned.

“Almost,” Luke says, as though he’s placating her. “I’d like to work a little on ‘Music of the Night’ before I let you go.” 

Rey glances at the clock on the far wall. They have fifteen minutes left until the end of the hour – thirteen, now that they’ve killed another two. She swallows and subtly tries to wipe the sweat from her brow. “Sure thing.”

“Fantastic.” Luke brings his hands together and turns to Kylo. “This is all you, of course. Remind me of how you want to run it – it’s been a while since we’ve talked it through.”

“I’ve been working on it,” Kylo grumbles. Rey catches his glance and notes a touch of redness in his ears.

“That’s nothing less than I expected.” Luke nods. “Why don’t we go ahead and run it, then? If we have an extra minute or two, we can go over motivations, but if not, then we’ll have a starting place for our next practice.”

Kylo nods, then glances at Rey again. Luke catches the glance and raises a brow.

Kylo clears his throat. “Can I have a minute?”

Rey stiffens, as does Leia. Luke glances between his two performers, then gives a hesitant nod. “Not too long, alright?”

Kylo nods again, then turns, tapping the back of Rey’s hand as he goes. Rey spares her mentors a backwards glance as she trails after him, her steps slow as he moves towards a corner.

His shoulders hunch as he leans in to talk to her, and his face is half hidden by his hair. There’s a determination written into it, though, that allows Rey’s breaths to even out.

“I’m going to touch you,” Kylo says, careful to keep his voice low. “And I want to make sure you’re okay with that, going forward.”

Rey blinks. “I mean, I know that,” she says, careful to keep her voice steady. “I’ve seen this performed before, and I’ve done more in the name of a show –”

“I’m sure you have,” Kylo interrupts. “But I _mean_ it. I’m… _really_ going to be touching you.”

If it were anyone else, his embarrassment would be endearing. This, however, is Kylo Ren. Rey straightens her shoulders and tries not to let the pounding of her heart give her away. “I’m a professional, Kylo,” she says. “I’ll tell you if I get uncomfortable. In fact, I’ll probably slap you, so don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

The huff that spills from Kylo’s mouth doesn’t sound like a laugh, but she knows it for what it is. “Okay,” he says, nodding back towards the center of the room. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Likewise,” Rey says.

Luke and Leia are bent over the score when the artists return. Rey smiles at both of them, though she can’t see what Kylo’s face does; nonetheless, both of the Skywalkers look relieved.

“All settled?” Luke asks, flipping back in the score. When both artists nod, he smiles. “Good. Kylo, if you would?”

Rey feels more than sees Kylo’s gaze change. He turns to her and smooths out his face as he begins to speak. “I want you just left of center stage,” he tells her. His hands hover over her shoulders, not quite touching her as they move along. Rey watches as he positions himself about a foot away from her, just barely within her line of sight. Then she sees him look to his uncle.

“There’ll be different stages of elevation here, right?”

“Right,” Luke nods. “We’re staging it in a semicircle, with the highest point being at the piano in the center.”

Kylo grunts. He gives the room a quick scan, then turns back to his uncle with a nod. “I’m ready.”

“Fantastic,” Luke says. “Two bars, and then you’re off.”

The pianist in the corner murmurs an affirmative. Rey settles herself on the floor and cranes her neck as Kylo folds inward, then rebuilds himself in the space of a heartbeat. The first notes of the scene fill the room, and then, Rey is lost.

Unlike the scenes that come before and after – power plays, in their edition – this is the one scene wherein the power dynamic shifts unquestionably in Kylo’s favor. Rey – Christine – is in his lair, and she’s given up the only power she’s supposed to have. Rey’s hands shake as she watches Kylo stalk towards her, mostly for the character but a tiny bit for herself.

Kylo’s voice echoes through the room, strong and persuasive; he weaves a contract like the devil himself – but something feels wrong. Rey fights the urge to give in to her confusion as he sinks down to her level, taking her by the hand and taking her to the center of his world. She lets herself melt into him as he gathers her up; her eyes flutter closed as his hands wrap around her wrists and the air goes still, too fragile for her to move.

In this moment, Rey lets Kylo own her.

Then, the crystalline silence shatters. Kylo’s grip tightens, and he hauls her to him, running his hands hot over the length of her body. They drag up across her chest, and Rey has a moment – one wild, thoughtless moment – where she arches into his touch before she can manage to bring herself back under control. Kylo’s voice falters, but he keeps on singing, tangling a hand in her hair before letting himself fall away.

Rey nearly stumbles when the heat of his body disappears, but she manages to right herself. As the song winds down, Kylo stops singing and leads her instead to the place where her future mannequin will be. Rey doesn’t have to work as the music crests; when her cue arrives, she falls back, trust this man – this confusing, terrible man – to catch her in his too-strong arms. He does, and the way he cradles her to his chest nearly breaks her heart.

Rey keeps her eyes closed as he carries her back to her ‘boat’ and allows herself to curl up once she’s placed back on the floor. Kylo hovers over her through the last notes of the song, his hand smoothing a stray strand of hair out of her face as his voice fades into nothing.

The piano stops. The moment ends. Rey lets her eyes stay closed for a second longer, and then she forces herself upright. Luke’s applause breaks through the haze that’s settled on her brain, but Rey’s eyes are drawn immediately to Leia. The woman stares between her son and her protégé with what appear to be tears in her eyes, a hand pressed against her mouth.

Heat washes over Rey’s skin and leaves her face pink; she knows that if she risks a glance at Kylo, it will only get worse. The sickness returns to her stomach and prompts her to rise, holding herself as she rushes to gather her things.

“I have to go,” she says, reaching out to touch Luke on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry; I’m just not feeling well, but I promise I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

She hears Leia call her name – hears Luke say something, but she’s gone, gone from that room and that man as fast as her legs can carry her.

Rey runs out of the Coruscant and down the marble steps, her lungs weak but her pulse racing. After three blocks of running, she slows, but only enough to pull out her phone and dial Finn’s number.

“Rey?” he asks, when he finally picks up. “Rey, what’s the matter?”

“I need to crash at your place,” she says, knowing just how weak her voice must sound. “I know you’re performing tonight, but please: I can’t go home right now.”

“It’s okay, Rey, that’s fine.” Finn’s voice has gone tight with worry. “You get over there, and you make yourself some tea, and get yourself handled as best you can. Don’t worry about spending the night; I’m not gonna kick you out.”

“Thank you so much, Finn,” Rey says. “Really, thank you. I owe you one, big time.”

 “You’re gonna tell me what all of this is about as soon as I get home, so you best remember that, peanut.”

Rey hangs up a few moments later. She takes a deep breath before tucking her phone back into her purse, then lets her wayward feet carry her in the direction of Finn’s apartment.

There are two texts waiting for her after she’s fished the key out from beneath his doormat. Rey throws herself down on Finn’s thrift store couch and reads them both.

This first is from Poe, letting her know that he’ll be stopping by Finn’s later to check in on her, and that he’ll bring a pizza, if she wants some. The second, no surprise, is from Kylo.

<< Kylo Ren:

What the hell was that about? >>

Rey almost laughs. She doesn’t bother to respond, just tucks her phone away and makes herself as small as she can.

In the hours between her arrival and Poe’s, she makes herself a pot of tea and settles in to watch more episodes of some meaningless cartoon playing on one of the local channels. The knock on Finn’s door almost scares her, but she rallies herself by wrapping a blanket around her shoulders like a cloak before she goes to answer it.

Poe is standing outside with a pizza box in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. “Heard you had a rough day,” he says before waltzing inside. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I know Finn’s gonna want details the minute he gets home.”

“He’s already asked me for them,” Rey says, her voice tired and flinty. “I’ll give them to both of you then, but I can’t promise that any of it makes any sense.”

The humor in Poe’s eyes doesn’t die. He directs her back to the couch, instead, and lets her cradle the pizza box in her too-small lap. “That’s fine,” he says, before he gets himself a slice. “There’s not a lot in this world that makes sense, my friend. We just have to learn to roll with it while we can.”

It’s a comforting thought, even if it doesn’t kill the fire in her chest.

They watch another two episodes of Rey’s television show before setting the pizza aside. Poe raids Finn’s refrigerator for two colas and pours them into cups, followed by a generous helping of his store-bought whiskey. He passes one to Rey in companionable silence and watches her drain it all before he’s had a moment to sit down.

“I’m tempted to let that sit in your system before I press you for questions,” he admits. “But I’m thinking that if I let you have more, you’re just going to try and make yourself forget.”

“I’d rather forget,” Rey admits. She holds the glass close to her chest and enjoys the cool press against her skin. “I just – I mean, I probably overreacted, but today – I just – I don’t know what’s happened to me.”

“That’s okay,” Poe says again. “Just explain what’s going on, one detail at a time. We’ll work it out, and by the time Finn’s home, everything will be alright.”

“I’m not so sure,” Rey murmurs.

Her explanation is broken and slow, but Poe bears it patiently. He doesn’t interrupt, not even when she fumbles, and presses himself against her side when she’s unable to go on.

“I just –” she says, running a hand through her hair. “He’s so _distracting_ , and I don’t understand, and I don’t think I ever want to understand because _I don’t want to like him_.”

“I know,” Poe says. He reaches over and lets his hand fall on her shoulder. “I’m – sorry, I guess? I actually am. I know it’s not easy, and I know it’s not nice, and I know it’s going to suck that you have to work with him for the next month –”

“And that’s what makes it worse!” Rey cries. “Do you know how hard it is to act like you don’t like someone when you have to let them _seduce_ you? I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Act?” There’s a quiver of laughter in Poe’s lips, but to his credit, he keeps it under control. “I mean, that’s part of your job, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Rey grumbles. “But I’m supposed to be acting like I like him, even though I don’t like him, even though I do, and after a while that gets a little complicated!”

She reaches for his drink and steals it, effectively draining it before he even realizes it’s left his hand. Poe glares at her best he can without laughing, then, after a moment, grows somber. “You don’t think it’s character bleed over, do you?” he asks. “Finn’s mentioned that before, and if that’s the case, then you don’t have to worry about this carrying on past your performance.”

“I dunno,” Rey runs her hand through her hair again, then sets Poe’s glass aside. “I mean, it might be. That’s _possible_.”

“It’s a better answer than any so far,” Poe nods. “And it’s the one you’d like better, yes?”

Rey hesitates before she responds. Her chest aches, and her head is pounding, almost as though her body can’t make up its mind as to how to feel; a relatable feeling, sure, but not a pleasant one. She flounders for something to say only to come up speechless.

This is apparently all Poe needs. The humor in his eyes turns fond, and the hand on Rey’s shoulder squeezes down.

“It’s okay, Rey,” he says, at last. “I know this kind of thing isn’t pleasant – it never is. But the way I see it, you’ve only got two options: deal with it head on, or let it die.”

Rey wants to whimper, but she bites her lip instead.

They’ve made it through the bulk of the bottle by the time Finn arrives. They cheer at the sight of him, leaving him shaking his head as he shrugs out of his jacket. A moment later, he’s throwing himself on top of them, whining and wheedling for Poe to give him the bottle.

“I hate this job,” he says, wrapping a hand around its neck. “Remind me why I became a performer?”

“Because you love to sing?” Poe grunts, trying in vain to wrestle his arm free from Finn’s grip.

“Because you wanted to follow me?” Rey adds. “Because you’re a masochist?”

“All of the above,” Finn groans. He yanks the whisky away and frowns at the meager contents that remain. “Did you really not save any for me?”

“Hey, now,” Poe says, his voice far too fond. “We’ve both been having terribly dramatic days, and only people who are having dramatic days get to have any whiskey. Have you had a dramatic day, Finn?”

Finns blinks, long and slow. “Outside of the work I do for my job, no,” he says. “But now I’m tired and I have two lunatics sitting on my couch?”

Poe considers this for a long moment. Then, he shrugs. “In all fairness, you let us come here.”

Rey is too caught up in her giggles to properly contribute to the conversation, but when Finn looks up, it’s her that he smiles at.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits with a shrug. “Now the real question is this: which one of you is sleeping on the couch, and which one of you is one the floor?”

“Couch,” Poe and Rey say at the same time. Finn grins from his place settled in their laps, only to yelp a moment later. The couch versus floor debate results in a twenty minute wrestling match wherein Finn is caught in the middle, and only ends with an intense, nose to nose round of rock-paper-scissors. In the end, Rey gets the couch, and Poe is left grumbling as he gathers blankets to make a nest on the floor.

Finn flicks them both off before he goes stumbling into the bedroom, only to return a moment later with his comforter and a set of pillows. Rey smiles as he sets up camp on the floor next to Poe. He ignores the other man’s staring in favor of throwing himself down once more, his back to both of his companions.

“You have ten minutes to fall asleep,” he tells them, though his voice is full of laughter, “or I’m waking you both up early and making you take me to breakfast.”

“You know,” Poe says, just before he settles in. “That really doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I make no promises,” Rey says, before she breaks into a yawn.

She stares for what seems like hours at her two boys, but for what is really only a matter of minutes. It takes no time at all for Finn to start snoring, but she and Poe – well, they stay awake for a while longer. Before Rey rolls over to push her face into the couch, she catches Poe’s eye. He’s wide awake and staring at the ceiling, something thoughtful behind his wide eyes.

He offers her a wink when he catches her staring. Rey rolls her eyes, then winks back before trying to settle in for the night.

She resists the urge to check her phone. It glows once or twice in the dark, but she lets herself be lulled by the sound of Finn’s snoring. Only when Poe’s joins his does she truly allows herself to doze, sent off to dream by exhaustion, booze, and the gentle beating of her own heart.

*

The next several days are, for the lack of a better term, a mess.

The tension that rehearsals had so pleasantly been lacking returns in full force, emphasized by a series of unopened messages Rey has building up on her phone. She attends practices, as she’s expected to, and she interacts with Kylo as is necessary, but _only_ as is necessary. His expression, whenever she falls prey to the urge to glance at him, is as dark and stormy as the early days of rehearsal – worse, if any of the rumors are true.

According to the house staff, there’s been a doubling in the number of broken music stands. Poe has reported a vandalized practice room, and while they don’t know who did it, everyone has their own suspicions.

Rey can’t look Poe in the eye after the rumor starts circulating, but she does not relent. She takes her lunches with Finn or alone in the practice rooms; it takes a little bribery, but Finn runs interference for her during rehearsals, too. It’s only in the one on ones that Rey had to face Kylo Ren on her own, and even then, she has Luke and Leia to keep things…professional.

“I thought we’d moved past this,” Luke confesses one day, after he’s pulled Rey aside. Kylo is pacing on the other side of the room, his head bent low in an attempt to ward off his mother, but Rey doesn’t think it’s working; he keeps shooting her the most deadly of glances and it makes her stomach queasy.

It takes a long time for her to speak. Just as she opens her mouth to tell Luke the truth – that she’s the reason they’re fighting again – the man throws up his hands and sighs.

“You two,” he says, pointing across the room, “need to make a decision in the coming days. I don’t care what’s going on with you personally, but you need to stop letting it impact your character interpretations. We can’t have you changing how you want to perform every night out of the week.”

Rey feels Kylo’s gaze burning into the back of her neck and does her best to slip out of the room before he can stop her.

When she checks her phone later that day, there’s another message. Rey breaks and reads it, though she is quick to delete it, after.

<< Kylo Ren:

Don’t do this, Rey. We’re better than this. >>

She’s keeping a witty list of responses tucked away in the back of her mind, and it almost pains her not to use them. Rey tucks her phone away and lets the dull ‘thump’ of her feet on the pavement clear her head as she starts to head home.

The angry beat of her heart keeps her awake at night just as much as her insomnia does, anymore, and it always leaves her worse for wear when morning comes.

Luke’s exasperation hasn’t faded, even after a week of stonewalled silence. He does, however, invite Finn into his one on one practices – Rey reasons that this is because they’re running “Down Once More” and that Raoul needs to be in the scene, of course, but the determined set of Luke’s shoulders suggests an ulterior motive.

The tension in the room, when bore by four sets of shoulders instead of three (Leia notably absent), is just barely more tolerable than usual. Finn exchanges an awkward smile with Rey, then a tentative nod with Kylo, before settling himself in his corner. Rey offers what she hopes is a sympathetic smile before Luke begins to guide them through the score.

Kylo, crouched on the floor, looks at them with unblinking eyes. When Luke counts off, Rey finds herself matching her breathing to his. She wants to curse, but the music is starting and she’s got a job to do.

“Okay,” Luke says, once the run has ended. “Let’s do these couple of bars again. Your tuning is off, so we may have to hold notes for a while before we’re able to move forward.”

Rey resists the urge to groan. They reset, then spend several minutes tuning. Kylo holds the floor, Finn rests in the middle, and Rey glides over the top of them like it’s nothing. The room around them shakes until their voices settle, unified, and Luke cuts them off.

“Much better,” he says, and Rey sees him crack his first smile of the day. “Now, again with the blocking. Finn, you’re –”

“Over in the corner with a lasso around my neck?” There’s amusement in Finn’s voice as well as exasperation. Rey shoots him a look, but he only smiles back, marching off to go find his mark. Luke shakes his head, and then turns to Kylo.

“Kylo, you’re –”

“In the water.” His nephew’s tone is short. He rolls his shoulders, tosses his hair out of his face, and stalks past Rey to find his mark.

“And Rey,” Luke says, turning, at last to her.

“I’m here,” Rey says, tapping her toe on the ground. “And I’ll move to – here.” She leaps, light on her feet, from one spot to the next. “And then to there.” Her finger trembles a little as she points to the spot in front of Kylo. Her gaze lingers long enough to see his scowl deepen, but she’s quick to look away.

“Good.” Luke nods. “I’m glad this is sinking in. Now, we’ll do four bars of buildup, and then I’d like you to begin. I know this section is complicated, but I have complete faith in the three of you to manage it.”

“Where are we going to?” Finn calls out.

To Rey’s surprise, Luke only shrugs. “Depends on how I feel,” he admits. “Now hop to it. Four bars, then enter.”

The piano begins. One day, Rey knows, they’ll be able to practice with the full orchestra, and she’ll love every second, but now she’s coming in and mixing her voice with Finn’s and Kylo’s, trying to enunciate her words without overpowering either one. Kylo, of course, she can’t overpower, but Finn she has to be careful with. Their voices blend together as he struggles against his invisible lasso. Rey sees Luke give Kylo his cue and works to keep herself from stiffening.

It takes a concentrated effort for her to keep her eyes on Finn. Kylo’s eyes, almost obscured by a strand of wayward hair, are dark and full of rage, but every painful step emphasizes the strength it takes for him to carry onward. Were she not in the middle of berating him, Rey would accuse him of being tired, but she has no time for outward perspective. She barrels towards him when the musical cue commands, coming up to his chest until the moment freezes and the world falls away.

She can see sweat forming on his brow, standing this close to him. There’s a slow tinkle from the piano, and she’s singing, like she’s supposed to, coming up on her toes to wrap a hand through his curling hair.

She hasn’t had lunch with Phasma in weeks, but the woman’s words come crashing back into her head: “You’re going to have to kiss him eventually.”

His eyes are closing, eyelashes fluttering, and for a moment, Rey considers.

She steps back, hand falling from Kylo’s hair as she forces herself to look at Luke. The piano in the background comes to a crashing halt; she sees Kylo trip and has to keep herself from rushing to support him.

“How was that?” she asks, instead. Luke gives her the tiniest shake of his head and opens his mouth, but Kylo beats him to the punch.

“What are you _doing_?” he shouts. He’s recovered quite nicely, Rey realizes, as he crosses the space between the two of them. “Tell me,” he hisses. “What the _fuck_ is going on with you?”

“Excuse me?” Rey says, taking a step back. “What’s going on with me? Are you sure that’s the question you should be asking?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. What the fuck has been up with you? I thought we moved past this!”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” She’s lying, she’s lying so badly, but Rey grits her teeth and balls her hands into fists.

“Oh, come on, Rey,” Kylo sneers. “You spend a significant part of your life acting, and you’re telling me that I’m supposed to believe that? It’s a miracle you got a job if you think _that_ is supposed to be convincing. Tell me what’s going on!”

“Excuse me,” Luke manages, but neither of the artists look at him.

“It’s none of your business!” Rey shouts.

“You made it my business when it started affecting your performance,” Kylo says. “You’ve been in a funk for days. I thought you were serious about wanting this performance to be good, but if you’re going to act like this –”

“You’ll what?” Rey says. “You’ll get your mother to bring someone in to replace me? How are you going to deal with it when they drop out after a week because they can’t deal with your attitude problem?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Rey says. “Now: it’s _none of your business_ if something is going on. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about, instead?”

To her great surprise, the blow seems to hit. Kylo’s eyes go wide for one, raw moment until he can shut himself back down. “This?” he says. “This is about you acting like some untrained middle schooler!”

“Uh, no, no,” Rey shakes her head. “That’s you. Children are the ones who nag people incessantly, even when those people have shown that they’re not interested. You’ve been going at this for _days_ , so something tells me this is more about you than it is about me. Isn’t it, Kylo?”

He seems to curl inward as his name falls from her lips. He takes a step forward, crowding into her space, with a hand hovering at the level of her throat. Rey swallows at the sight of it and remembers her own hands around his tie.

Kylo brings his voice down to a barely-controlled hiss. “Rey,” he growls, bending his head down over hers. “You can’t run from me. You can’t keep running from these sorts of things.”

Rey’s breath grows tight in her throat. “You don’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do,” Kylo laughs, but it’s a heartless thing. “You’re terrified, Rey, it shows on your face. One day you’re going to have to face those fears, and until you do, you’ll always be _less_.”

Rey bares her teeth as Kylo steps away, avoiding the angry stomp of her foot. He smirks at her and brushes off his shirt. “Don’t try to deny it,” he says, pushing around her and walking away. “You’re so terrified that you can’t even kiss me.”

Rey snaps.

A hand lashes out and grabs the back of his shirt just before he’s out of reach; she pulls him back and crowds into his space, just like he’d pushed himself into hers. She moves her hand up to his collar and _tugs_ hard enough to make him stumble.

She still has to stand on her toes to kiss him, but it hurts her neck a little less with him at her level.

It’s not a good kiss. It’s too warm, like a fire has burst in Rey’s stomach and is spilling its way onto her lips. Their teeth clack as they try to overpower one another, only finding peace when Kylo submits. He weaves a hand through Rey’s hair and lets her own him – and finally, _finally_ , the nausea that’s ruled Rey’s stomach for weeks abates.

She lets it carry on for a second too long, then shoves Kylo away. He stumbles backwards, blinking at the space where she used to be with his hands outstretched and grasping at nothing.

“Don’t tell me what I’m afraid of,” Rey says. Her heart is pounding, but she drinks the sight of him in, anyway. It takes her a moment to realize that he’s shaking. Her eyebrows furrow together.

“ _You’re_ the one who’s afraid,” she says, unable to hide her surprise.

Kylo freezes. He moves, taking a step forward, but then seems to pull himself back. His arms fall down to his sides, and he takes a long, slow breath.

Without a glance at her, Luke, or Finn, Kylo Ren retreats from the practice room. The door hits the outside wall with a tremendous ‘crash’, then slowly falls back into place.

No one left in the practice room speaks. Rey sucks in air through her nose and realizes, abruptly, that she hasn’t been breathing; as she exhales, she finds herself sinking onto the floor. The cold is a relief against her burning skin, and it takes all of her concentration not to lie down and stay there forever.

She hears a disgruntled snort from behind her. When she glances up, it’s to see Luke and Finn exchanging several dollar bills, though Luke appears to be receiving the bulk of them.

“And I thought working with Han and Leia was bad,” he says, more to Finn than to Rey. “I’ll never understand why people handle these things through arguments. Give me one healthy relationship in this damn building, and I’ll be able to retire happy.”

“I’m working on it,” Finn says with a laugh. He catches Rey looking and offers her a sympathetic shrug.

“We’re not in a relationship,” Rey grumbles. “He’s an asshole and insensitive and a control freak, and I’d never want to date him.”

Luke chuckles. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. In fact, that is an astute assessment of my nephew’s personality. That I would even try to defend him to you seems – ludicrous, really.” He shakes his head. “But there is something between the two of you – a connection, or a bond, and I don’t think there’s a way for you to deny that.”

Rey laughs, or maybe she sobs. She can’t really tell. The amusement goes out of Finn’s face in a moment, and then he’s crouching at her side, his arms stretched out and wrapped around her shoulders.

“He just –” Rey says, and oh, there’s a tear tracking down her cheek. “He makes me feel _so much_. I _hate_ it.” She buries her face in her arms and curls deeper into Finn’s embrace, not wanting Luke to see her cry.

Across the room, the older man sighs. “I think that we’re done for today,” he says. “Go home, you two.”

Finn does the nodding for her. Rey sniffles and wipes her cheeks on the sleeve of her shirt before daring to look up. Luke, she sees, is smiling at the both of them, but it’s a smile tinged with sadness. “Go home,” he says again.

Rey lets Finn help her to her feet. He keeps an arm around her shoulders as they leave the practice room, though both of them through cautious looks at Luke before they go. He rolls his eyes at them and shoos them away before either of them can turn back.

The walk out of the Coruscant is a quiet one. Finn’s touch never lessens, but Rey can see the twists and turns of his face as he tries to work out what to do next.

“I think,” she says, before he has a chance to speak, “that we should talk about this.”

Finn chuckles, ever so quietly. “Peanut, I do believe you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The chorus costumes are based off of the ones in the 2004 movie, which, yes, have what appear to be effectively mesh, diaphanous tops. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought? I know you may be disappointed by Rey's reversion, but believe me: sometimes it feels safer to go back into what you know - rejection, isolation, etc. - than to embrace the new.


	14. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rey takes a rest and Kylo takes to the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, folks! Sorry for the brief delay. I do think, though, that the content of this chapter will make it worth it. Enjoy!

Luke stares after his students until the practice room door has, once again, fallen shut. He runs a hand through his graying hair and sighs, letting a week’s worth of exhaustion weigh down his shoulders all at once. After several minutes of pouting, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials his sister.

The phone rings three times before she bothers to pick up.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Luke says, before she can speak. “But your son ran out of my practice today, and your protégé is in tears. I’ve sent her home with Finn, but I don’t know where Kylo’s gone nor what he intends to do with himself.”

On the other end, he hears Leia sigh. “Why don’t you ever call with good news?” she grumbles. Luke chuckles, and then the line goes dead.

He stands in the empty practice room for a few minutes longer, tracing the lines of the mirrors with his eyes. Then, with another sigh, he goes to gather his things.

“Why can’t this ever be easy?” he asks the still-present pianist. The pianist only shrugs.

***

Kylo makes his way through the city without a destination in mind. His hands, still shaking, are shoved into his pockets so no one can see them, and his legs ache with the urge to run. If he never sees the Coruscant – if he never sees that _woman_ again, he’d consider himself a happy man.

Kylo breathes out something that’s supposed to be a laugh. It feels more like he’s choking.

It’s on days like this that he misses the First Order. People there feared him enough that they left him alone; there were no impertinent performers with dreams too big for their bodies, or if there were, he never had to deal with them. The First Order broke anyone who didn’t fit its mold, and women like Rey were crushed within days of their arrival.

But Kylo does not turn down the familiar streets that lead towards the First Order Theatre. He walks, moving further and further away from the Coruscant until he doesn’t recognize the part of town he’s in. The streets around him become seedy, and the people in their darker corners give him odd looks, but Kylo ducks his head and does his best to fit in. The lack of anonymity aches, but what’s one more bruise on a day like today? 

His lip still feels like it’s bleeding. It may not be, actually, but he can still taste the iron from where Rey’s teeth had crested across his skin. Kylo closes his eyes for a moment – just a moment – and allows himself to taste. It was a sloppy kiss, yes, but he hadn’t expected much better, not when he’d pushed so hard to make her angry.

That said – well. He’d gotten what he’d wanted. He’d gotten more than he’d bargained for, arguably, but he knows, now, that the memory of it will never be enough; now that he’s had it, he wants it again. The way she felt against him, fit against him, played off of him like their moments were real instead of performed on some stage – she was _intoxicating_.

He hadn’t realized it for such a long time, had denied it vehemently for as long as he could. Then she’d looked at him with her big doe eyes and asked, “Please, go with my friend,” and he’d been lost. He’d been lost and done for, and she had continued to hate him.

Walter Snoke of the First Order had once informed Kylo that he was the textbook definition of a masochist. Kylo had not disagreed.

It seems time and distance has not made this label any less accurate.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Kylo wants to ignore it, but there’s a flare of hope in his chest – disgusting, really. It’s not her name that pops up on his phone; it’s his mother’s, along with a picture that’s less than flattering.

Kylo considers, rather seriously, letting it go to voicemail.

The phone’s on its final ring when he hits ‘answer’.

“Kylo? Kylo, where are you?”

“I’m fine, mother,” Kylo sighs into the receiver.

“I’m not asking if you’re fine,” Leia bites back. “I’m asking where you are.”

Kylo glances around for any familiar landmarks and, to his amusement, finds none. “I’m not really sure,” he admits. “But I’m at the intersection of Embarrassment and Annoyance, if that helps any.”

“You’re hilarious,” his mother drawls. “You just love to make my job easier, don’t you?”

Kylo can’t help himself and chuckles. He gives her the proper street names and listens as she hammers away on her keyboard. “If I made your job easier, you’d have less fun.”

“Oh, shut up.”

It’s nice to know that he can make his mother smile even when she’s mad at him. Things didn’t used to be so simple.

“I’m coming to get you,” Leia says. “And then we’re getting take out from Panda’s, and you’re going to explain everything that’s going on while I eat your lo mein. Understand?”

“You know, as appealing as that sounds,” Kylo says. “I don’t really want to do that.”

“Well, too bad,” Leia huffs. “You don’t get to ruin an afternoon’s rehearsal without consequences.”

“Hey, I didn’t ruin anything.” Kylo catches a woman in the shadows staring at him and turns towards the street. “Your pupil is the one making a mess of all of this.”

“I’m not denying that,” Leia says. “But it takes two to tango, and honey, you’ve always been a horrible dancer.”

Analogies, wonderful. Kylo sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He glances up past the city’s skyscrapers and watches the sky. The clouds above him are beginning to darken.

“When should I expect you?” he grumbles.

“Give me fifteen minutes,” Leia says. “I’ll see you soon.”

Kylo hits ‘end’ and sighs again before tucking his phone into his pocket. He stays at the stoplight until he sees his mother’s car come barreling around the corner. She stops just long enough for him to scramble into the passenger’s side before she’s off again. Kylo’s long gotten used to her tendency to speed; she picked it up, she claims, from his father, and now can’t drive like a regular human being. He doesn’t quite believe her (she enjoys pressing the gas pedal a little too much), but he knows better than to argue.

“Know what you want?” she asks as Panda’s comes into view.

“Are you not dictating my meal?” Kylo raises an eyebrow. Leia rolls her eyes and pulls up to the drive in window, rattling off their orders without taking a breath in between them. Kylo sinks lower into his seat and starts counting the clouds that pass by overhead.

They pull up to the drive-through’s second window and begin their wait. Kylo reaches thirty three clouds before Leia turns on him.

“I suggest you start talking here,” she says, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel.

“I don’t want to talk about this at all,” Kylo grunts.

“That’s not an option,” Leia hums. “Though if you really want to wait, we can start at home. I’ll have Chewie on my side, though, and you know how well you deal with him.”

“It’s a wonder he’s still alive,” Kylo mutters. Their dog is pushing twenty – by all sense and reason, he should be long dead. The bastard carries on, however, living through Han’s death and through Kylo’s rise and fall. Kylo can barely look him in the eye anymore – the poor dog’s seen too much.

“It’s a wonder any of us are,” Leia says. She nudges the car forward. “Not the point, though. Talk.”

Kylo heaves a sigh, then does as he’s told.

By the time the story’s out – and it takes a while, long enough for their food to arrive and for Leia to begin the drive home – Kylo has sagged in his seat. His hands, once steady, are shaking again, even as he wraps them around their Chinese takeout.

“She’s obnoxious,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on the food. “Not to mention unprofessional. The only reason she belongs in the house is because she can, at the least, sing.”

Beside him, Leia chuckles.

“I’m serious!” Kylo insists. “There have been practices where I know she’s wanted to kill me, and more than a few when I’ve wanted to kill her. She called me one night, though, and asked if she could stay over at my place because her apartment was flooding.” He sees his mother blink, but plows forward, anyway “I have _no_ idea why she called me, especially because she hates me so much, but we…we got along.” He trails off, frowning. The car fills with silence, save for the gentle rumble of the engine.

After a while, he sees Leia glance at him. “It seems like there a lot of mixed signals,” she says, though it sounds more like a question than a statement.

Kylo’s frown deepens. “I guess,” he says, bringing up his hand to rub the back of his neck. “It’s better than nothing else.”

Leia’s smile twitches at its corners, as though she’s trying not to laugh. Kylo glances between her and the road, missing the moment where his mother breaks and begins to giggle.

He goes to glare at her, but it only makes Leia laugh harder. Kylo huffs and crosses his arms over his chest (careful of their Chinese food) and endures his mother’s laughter until they’ve reached the end of their driveway. Leia, at least, waits until she’s parked the car to wipe a tear away from her eye.

“What is so funny?” Kylo deadpans.

Leia reaches over and pats his knee, once, and then again. “Son,” she says. “You sound just your father did when he was young.”

Kylo blanches, sending Leia back into her pearls of laughter. Kylo physically removes himself from the car, Chinese food in hand, but he can still hear her laughter. It takes all of his patience not to storm into the house and leave her there – were he younger, he would’ve done it. Instead, he leans against the car and closes his eyes until he hears the driver’s side door open.

“We drove your uncle crazy with all of our arguing,” Leia says, slamming the door shut. “It was a miracle, really, that anything at all got accomplished during rehearsal.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kylo snarks. “I’m not – I’m not trying to _date_ her or anything, I’m just trying to perform.”

“Of course,” his mother nods. There’s laughter dancing in her eyes, and it makes Kylo want to squirm. Instead, he hands her the bag of Chinese food, fishing her keys out of her hand so he can go and unlock the front door.

They settle down in front of the television, cradling chopsticks and disposable bowls of lo mein in their laps. It’s more plebian than Kylo remembers it, but the lo mein tastes like comfort and like money he didn’t spend, so he eats it with gratitude. Leia turns on a show that’s part evening news, part comedy show, and they laugh, every now and then, in between bites of food.

It’s not until the last of the noodles have disappeared that Leia breaches the topic again.

“You need to talk to her, you know.”

Kylo nearly chokes. He spends the next minute pounding on his chest while Leia watches, one eyebrow raised. “What?!”

“You need to talk to her,” Leia repeats. “Sweeping all of this under the rug – whatever it is, whatever you want to call it – is only going to make matters worse. You need to discuss this for the sake of your personal relationship, if not your professional one.”

Kylo snorts, then reaches for a napkin. He takes his time wiping lo mein off of his face, all the while glaring at the television. “I don’t see how that’s going to help anything.”

He hears his mother sigh. “She kissed you,” she says, her voice stern. When Kylo begins to sputter, she holds up a hand to stop him. “Luke told me,” she says. “I think a bit of communication will do the two of you wonders. Believe me, I’m speaking from experience.”

Kylo snorts, then returns his attention to his bowl. He waits a few moments, picking at the remains of his meal before he replies. “Even if I do try and talk to her,” he says. “There’s no guarantee she’ll talk back.”

His mother only shrugs. “You still need to try. Making the first move means you’ll at least have confidence on your side.”

“Yeah, that’s a lie,” Kylo scoffs. It’s a quiet thing, but it still makes his mother roll her eyes. After a long moment of playing with a puddle of grease, he looks at her again. “Do I have to do it tonight?”

Leia’s expression softens, but only a little. “I’d say yes. Better to handle this now. You’re back to blocking tomorrow, anyway, and with the bulk of the cast; if you’re still fighting – well, people aren’t going to get confused _or_ surprised, but I do believe they’ll riot.”

“Sounds like it’d be interesting,” Kylo says. He dodges the chopstick Leia throws at him and begins to smile, though he does his best to hide it from his mother.

It’s the most pleasant dinner he’s had in weeks, but he doesn’t say as much. The two of them dawdled in front of the television for a little while longer. It’s only when Leia shoos him out of the room, turning on a rerun of Star Trek: The Next Generation, that he stands and pulls his phone out of his back pocket.

He leans against the wall in the front hallway and stares at Rey’s number. It’s not too late in the day yet, he reasons – but then again, she could be with her friends. No doubt they’d want to comfort her, Finn in particular. Kylo fists a hand through his hair.

The noise coming from the television grows louder.

“I’m going!” he shouts, rolling his eyes. He thinks he hears Leia chuckle, but it’s drowned out by Captain Picard ordering the Enterprise to lay down her arms. Kylo moves into the garage, seeking silence, though he’s sure to slam the door behind him as he goes.

It takes another several minutes of stalling before he dials Rey’s number.

The dial tone is loud. It bites his ear as he listens to it, all the while worrying his bottom lip. He lifts a quiet prayer up to whatever deity is listening, though he’s not sure what he’s asking for: the sound of her voicemail or for her to actually _pick up the damned phone_.

The fourth ring is just coming to an end when she answers him.

“What do you want, Kylo?”

Kylo sags with relief at the sound of anger in her voice. He does his best not to chuckle, but the sound slips out of him anyway. “I – I don’t know?”

On the other end of the line, Rey snorts. “Then why the fuck did you call?” Her voice is low enough to be grumbly, though there’s a looseness to her vowels that gives Kylo pause.

He clears his throat again and does his best to remain calm. “I wanted to talk,” he manages, after a moment. “I – I think we need to talk. About some things. Professionally.”

 The laugh he gets in return is wet. “And what makes you think that?” she asks.

“Wait.” Kylo shakes his head, awkward laughter falling away from his mouth as he frowns. “Are you crying?!”

There’s another hiccup across the line, followed shortly by a curse. “Of course not,” Rey snaps. “Why would I be crying? That wouldn’t make any sense, because you didn’t hurt my feelings. Anyway, I don’t want to talk to you.”

Kylo raises an eyebrow. He leans back against the garage door and clears his throat. “Right. Erm. Do you want to meet somewhere, then?”

The silence on the other end of the line is punctuated by Rey’s unsteady, breathy chuckle. “I’m over at Finn’s,” she says. “I’d have to go home – I don’t want to talk to you here.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me at all.”

“I don’t,” Rey insists. “But you’re going to have to pick me up.”

Kylo sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Text me Finn’s address,” he says, glancing at the clock. “If you agree to talk with me, I’ll – I’ll buy you beer?”

Rey’s chuckle almost sounds amused. “I want take out, too.”

“Should’ve talked to me earlier, then,” Kylo grumbles. “I ate all that’s left of it.”

Rey snorts, and the awkwardness in Kylo’s chest seizes him once more. “So, I, uh – I’ll see you in half an hour?”

“I’ll tell Finn you’re coming,” Rey says. “He wants to punch you, you know.”

“I would love to see him try.” Kylo pulls the phone away from his ear for a moment, the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Beer and take out,” Rey reminds him. “You better make this worth my while, Ren.”

Before Kylo has a chance to respond, the call drops. His witty remark is cut off by the toll of the dial tone.

He walks back into the house to find his mother and Chewie curled up on the couch, watching as Captain Picard stands trial in front of a troop of unidentifiable men in alien costumes. He waits until the show breaks for commercial, then clears his throat.

“I need to borrow your car.”

Leia looks at him over her shoulder, her face a mask of innocence. “Oh, do you?”

Kylo doesn’t bother to hide the roll of his eyes. “Do you want me to go apologize to your student or not?”

“That depends,” Leia says. “Are you actually going to apologize?”

Kylo hesitates. “I’m bringing her food?” he says. “And beer?”

Leia shakes her head and sighs. “The keys are on the table,” she says. “If you could have it back before six in the morning, I’d appreciate it. Otherwise, you’re picking me up.”

“I’m sure I’ll be back by then,” Kylo grumbles. He plucks the keys off of the table, then heads for the door. Just before he crosses the threshold, he stops and turns back towards his mother. Leia seems surprised when he returns and presses a kiss to her hair. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

He’s out the door before he can hear Leia’s chuckle.

The next twenty minutes are spent speeding through traffic and various parking lots. By the time the hour’s half past, Kylo’s putting his mother’s car in park in the center of Finn’s parking lot. There’s subpar Chinese food resting in the passenger’s seat and a twelve pack of beer on the floor. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket after a moment or two of wiggling, then pulls Rey’s number up on the main screen.

She answers after two rings. “You here?”

“Yeah, I’m down in the parking lot.”

“Got the food?”

“Of course I do,” Kylo huffs. “I’m not a liar.”

He can almost hear Rey roll her eyes. “Finn’s coming down with me,” she says. “I’ll see you in a few.”

The phone goes dead before Kylo can say goodbye. He closes it down and leans back in his seat, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and doing his best not to stare at the complex’s lone staircase.

It’s been – two months? – since he’s been here. He remembers a pair of doe eyes staring up at him and rubs his hand across his face, pressing until he sees stars behind his eyelids.

A knock on his chair window startles him out of the memory. He looks up and sees Rey, one eyebrow raised, and Finn a few steps behind her.

Kylo rolls down the window. Finn leans around Rey and glances into the passenger’s seat, and Kylo sees his face soften at the sight of warm food. Rey looks…unmoved. She rubs her arms and seems to fold in on herself; Kylo frowns, then motions her inside.

“I’m not going to bite her,” he says, when Finn starts to frown. “I’m apologizing. Hence the food.”

“Yeah, well forgive me for being suspicious,” Finn says. When Kylo’s standing, he has several inches on the other man; at the moment, though, Finn looks like a brick wall full of warning.

“You’re early,” Rey says. Her voice seems to break when it hits the side of the car.

Kylo clears his throat and nods. “Are you surprised?”

“No.” He sees the flicker of a smile and breathes a little easier. “I’ve ridden in your car before,” Rey says. “I’m surprised you don’t have the police after you all the time.”

Kylo shrugs, as best he can. “Happened more often when I was younger. Now, not so much.”

Finn takes her by the shoulder a moment before Rey can climb into the car. Kylo feels his jaw tighten and works to keep it loose, but Finn presses a kiss to Rey’s cheek, and he can’t help but feel unnerved.

“Text me when you get there,” Finn calls as Rey slips inside. “And when he leaves.”

“Yes, mother,” Rey sighs. She cradles the Chinese food on her lap and turns her head – Kylo catches a glimpse of a conspiratorial look, but it’s gone in a moment. Instead, Rey buckles her seatbelt and pushes back into Leia’s comfortable seats. “Do you need directions?”

Kylo shakes his head. He rolls up the window and offers Finn the tiniest wave before he pulls away. He watches the other man in the rearview mirror as he pulls out of the lot. The other man doesn’t move, just disappears the moment Kylo turns away.

The drive is quiet and short. In between several deep breaths and worrying his bottom lip, Kylo finds himself parking in another parking lot, then taking the Chinese food from Rey’s pinkish hands. She urges him forward with a nod of her head and guides him up her complex’s staircase and to the door of her apartment. After several awkward moments spent struggling to find her keys, Kylo finds himself being ushered inside.

He’s still setting things on her table when she walks past him to throw herself down on the couch. She curls in on herself, a porcupine protecting her soft belly, and stares at the television. Its black screen stares back.

Kylo does what he can to keep himself from chuckling. “Do you want any of the food?” he asks. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought a couple of platters.”

“Maybe in a little bit,” Rey says. “But you can bring the beer over.”

She seems relatively sober, but Kylo wouldn’t be surprised if she’d had a drink while over at Finn’s. He doesn’t bother hesitating, though; he takes the whole of the twelve pack and sets it down on Rey’s coffee table. She blinks at it as though she’s surprised, then leans forward and plucks one from the box. Kylo hesitates, then sits down next to her.

There’s a good two inches between them that sparks with heat, but neither of them pay it any mind.

Rey swallows loudly, then chokes on her beer. When Kylo looks over, glancing up from the floor, it’s to find her wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a whole grain fan,” she says, and for a moment, it sounds like she’s joking. Kylo’s tentative smile flattens when she continues. “What are you doing here, Kylo? Other than torturing me with bad beer?”

Kylo huffs, then takes another pull from his can. “Couple of reasons,” he admits. “Which one do you want first?”

Rey huffs and presses her can closer to her chest. A strand of hair falls into her eyes; she blows at it, trying to move it away, then gives up and shoves it aside. “Did Luke or Leia send you?”

“My mother encouraged me to talk to you, yes.”

“And is that the only reason you’re here?”

“No.” Kylo shakes his head. “If it was, I wouldn’t have brought food. Or beer.”

“Fair enough.” Rey tilts her beer in his direction. “Then why else are you here?”

 Kylo hums. He crushes his now-empty beer can in his hand, then sets it aside and reaches for another one.

“You know what I think?” Rey says. “I think you’re here because you want to make me feel worse.”

“Oh, of course,” Kylo says. “I brought you food to make you feel worse.”

“The best of all manipulation tactics,” Rey agrees. She sips her beer again and wrinkles her nose in a way that makes Kylo’s heart squeeze. “It’s easy: be mean, be nice, repeat until subject is suitably confused. I’ve seen it happen before.” She shakes her head, then sips her beer again. “It won’t happen to me, though.”

Kylo opens his mouth as though to argue, then shuts it again. He plays with his beer can for a moment, glancing at Rey from beneath his lashes. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t have to like you when you’re mean to me,” Rey says. “And you’re always mean to me.”

Kylo pauses, then shrugs. “Fair enough,” he says. “But by that logic, I shouldn’t have to like you, either.”

“You don’t like me.”

“I like you more than I should,” Kylo grumbles. “And you’re just as mean as I am.”

Rey blinks at him, a furrow growing between her eyebrows. “I’m not mean.”

“Are you kidding me?” Kylo says. “Then what would you call today? Typical little miss sunshine?”

Rey rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to her beer can. She pulls a long drink from its depths, then wipes her mouth and sets the can aside. There’s something painfully honest shining behind her eyes when she looks at Kylo again, and for a moment, he’s not sure he wants to hear her answer.

“I don’t know,” she says. “But it was kind of us, wasn’t it?”

Kylo goes still. “I mean – it fits, yeah.”

“We’re a mess,” Rey says with a laugh. She looks away from him again, and Kylo misses her gaze at once. “Everyone says we are.”

“I know. My mother’s still surprised that neither one of us is dead yet.”

“Yeah, Poe, too.” Rey grins. “Apparently there’s a pool on which one of us is going to the hospital first due to ‘work-related injuries’.”

Her use of air quotes is a little juvenile, but Kylo can’t help but smile at it. He forces the look away by the time she looks back at him. “Did he mention who was winning?”

“No,” Rey pouts. “But he’s still in the game. There were some people who bet on the first day of rehearsals.” She giggles, then reaches for another beer. “They’re all a bit mad at us, I think.”

“I don’t blame them,” Kylo says. He picks at the label on his can, then looks at Rey again. “You haven’t answered my question, though. Not really.”

He catches the start of a grimace, then forces himself to look away. He listens as Rey fiddles with her new can of beer, alternating between tapping it with her nails and taking long, slow drinks. It takes her longer to finish this one, and she doesn’t speak until it’s gone.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did,” she says, at last. “I know I should’ve – let you kiss me. I just…wasn’t ready.”

Kylo blinks. “Then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Because I didn’t _want_ to,” Rey snaps. “It’s not – I don’t want to talk about this, but I know you’re going to make me, and I know we have to, but I really, really do not want to do this.”

“Hey, this hasn’t been any easier for me, sweetheart,” Kylo says. He leans forward so his elbows are touching his knees. “Just spit it out. It’ll be easier to get it out all at once.”

Rey glares at him like she wants to turn him to stone. When she doesn’t succeed, she sighs and looks away. Something in Kylo’s chest twists, but he doesn’t try and make her look back again.

“I wasn’t sure how it would go,” Rey mumbles. “I didn’t – before that, we’d been okay, you know? Not good, exactly, but we’d been okay. I thought that, if I kissed you, we’d go back to this again.”

He’s so focused on studying his hands that her words almost don’t sink in. Once they have, Kylo can’t help but laugh. “Kind of worked out in reverse, didn’t it?”

“Oh, shut up,” Rey mutters. The silence that follows is almost friendly again, both parties fighting back small smiles that the other doesn’t have the chance to see.

“I wasn’t supposed to like you,” Rey says, almost under her breath.

Kylo twitches, then glances at her again. “I didn’t think you did.”

“Good.” The bite in her voice almost makes him laugh again. “That means my acting is improving. Luke will be proud.”

Kylo huffs out a noise that is almost a chuckle. He watches her as she finishes her beer, momentarily lost in the white swath of her throat. “You like me,” he parrots. “You _like_ me.”

“Can you stop saying that, please?” Rey grumbles. “It was hard enough to say the first time.”

A bubble of euphoria is about to burst in his chest, but Kylo holds it down as Rey’s face grows stonier. “Why is that a bad thing?” he asks. “Why is it so bad to like me?”

“Well, you’re kind of an asshole,” Rey says without prelude. “And you’re mean. You insult me and everyone else and walk around like some…I don’t know, some dark prince of the galaxy when you have to do the same kind of work we do. It’s kind of an off-putting impression.”

Kylo mulls it over for a moment, then shrugs. “That’s part of who I am,” he says.

“I _know_ ,” Rey groans. “But you’re more than that, too, and now that I know that, everything’s gone all wonky.”

Kylo blinks. “Wonky?”

“Wonky.” Rey nods. She rubs her arms and curls her feet up beneath her. “I wish you hadn’t made me kiss you,” she says, pulling herself close.

A moment of silence falls between them. In its time, Kylo tentatively eliminates one inch of space between the two of them. “It would’ve been easier to hate me if I hadn’t, wouldn’t it have?”

“I mean, I still hate you,” Rey says. “But yes.”

“I thought you said you like me?”

“And that’s the problem.” Rey sighs and leans back onto the couch. Their arms brush as she does, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

Kylo does. He struggles to find his words for a moment, brain awash with beer and confusion.

“Would you – would you want to kiss me again?”

Rey laughs. It’s not the sound he expects to hear, so Kylo flinches. He moves to pull away, but then Rey’s weight is trapping his arm beneath her.

“I’m going to have to, aren’t I?” she says. “I mean, it’s kind of part of the musical.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kylo says. He tries to tug his hand away again, but it seems firmly stuck. His hair falls into his eyes as he continues to struggle.

He stills at Rey’s sudden touch. She’s frowning at him, but she brushes the strand of hair away from his eyes.

“Would you kiss me?” Kylo asks again. “I mean – me. Real me.” He sounds like an idiot, he knows he does, but her hand hovering near his face makes it hard to think – hard to breathe.

He sees Rey’s face grow thoughtful. “I don’t know,” she says. “You’re not being mean right now. You’re actually being really nice – you’ve been nice all night.”

“So you’ll only consider kissing me when I’m being nice?”

Rey bites her lip, and Kylo has to physically stop himself from leaning forward. Then, Rey nods.

“I guess that’s not unreasonable,” Kylo murmurs. His forehead brushes hers, and he leans on her, watching. Rey’s eyelids flutter, and after a moment, her eyes drift closed.

She slumps forward, and Kylo pulls back, confused. It takes him a solid two minutes of gentle shaking to realize that she’s fallen asleep.

The effort it takes him not to swear is monumental.

“You can’t fall asleep now,” he says. His hands are hovering just over her back, unsure of where to land or if she’ll want them on her at all. She snuffles against his chest and rearranges herself on the couch so she’s pressing her back to his chest, leaving her head pressed against his collarbone.

“Apologize,” she murmurs. “Apologize for today, and I’ll tell you the truth.”

Kylo goes still. Her eyes are still closed – by all means, she could be sleep talking. All the same, he finds himself leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for being mean.”

He’s too close to her to see her smile, but he’s almost close enough to feel it. “Thank you,” Rey sighs. She shuffles again and brushes her cheek against his.

“Yeah, Kylo. I’d probably kiss you again. If you wanted me to.”

In that moment, she slumps against him, well and truly asleep. Kylo wants to seize the moment, but it’s pointless, now; a little snore escapes Rey’s lips and warns him away from bad decisions.

He sighs and readjusts himself on Rey’s too-small couch. A glance at the clock reveals the time: not too late, but late enough that he should probably be on his way. He shifts, only to freeze when he hears Rey whimper. He moves again, and again, she whimpers.

Kylo groans and collapses back down on the couch. In a last ditch effort, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. The text he sends to his mother is brief: it’s an apology, as he won’t be able to pick her up in the morning unless he wakes up before five.

No message comes in reply, but he doesn’t set the phone aside. He stares at the screen for a little longer, watching the seconds tick by on the too-small clock app.

It takes him forty two seconds to decide to open the camera app. He takes a picture of Rey pressed against his chest, then locks the phone and sets it aside. Then he allows his head to fall back against the couch cushions. He drifts somewhere between sleep and wakefulness until the darkness swallows him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I, at one point, new what episode of TNG I was referencing. As it is now 2am, I have no idea at all.  
> 2\. More bad eating habits. Lots of Chinese food, too. Maybe I'm just projecting, at this point.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	15. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now back to our regularly scheduled POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked that little dive into Kylo's psyche! We're back to Rey for the rest of the fic as we try to wrap things up, but never fear! There's still a fair amount of story to work through. I hope you enjoy it. XOXO

Rey wakes in the morning with a mouth that tastes like cotton, a crick in her neck, and a gentle yet persistent headache.

Her first instinct is to curl up in bed and bury her face in her pillow; as it is, she pulls her knees close and keeps her eyes shut, desperate not to think.

Her pillow is moving, though.

Rey works through the haze of sleep and cans of beer to open her eyes. The familiar face above her as smoothed in sleep and looks peaceful in a way she has never seen before.

Kylo Ren is asleep on her couch. She had fallen asleep on – and drooled on, apparently – a man who she’d spent several hours hiding after –

Nope. Not thinking about it.

Rey forces herself to look away from his face and instead towards the clock. It is seven forty seven in the morning. She has to be to work by nine. She has no idea when Kylo’s supposed to go in, but she’s assuming it’s about the same time as her.

Rey bites her lip. On one hand, she could try to move, but what she once thought was a blanket has turned out to be Kylo’s arm draped across her waist, and the man is heavy in sleep. On the other, she’s not in the place emotionally _or_ mentally to explain to Leia – _Kylo’s mother_ – why she’s arriving late with her son in tow. _Again_.

Yeah. Option one.

Rey pushes herself upright as slowly as she can, shifting away from the warmth of Kylo’s body in an attempt to put her feet on the floor. Kylo’s grip around her waist tightens – his hand covers the bulk of one of her hips and squeezes. Rey struggles for a moment, then collapses with a huff. She pokes the man in the side, then moves up to poke his nose.

“Kylo,” she murmurs. “Kylo, you need to let me get up.”

Kylo grumbles something deep and indistinct. His hand tightens on her waist once more, and Rey has to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

“No, not that,” she says. “Let me go. I need to take a shower before we go to work?”

This gets his attention. Kylo opens his eyes and blinks, letting out a soft “what?” as he tries to right himself. He stretches like a lazy, lethargic cat and smacks his lips, taking in her apartment as it’s drenched in daylight.

“It’s almost eight,” Rey says, keeping her voice soft. “We’re going to have to leave soon, and I want to at least have showered before I have to try on costumes.”

Kylo blinks again. Rey considers repeating herself, but then he shakes his head and sits all the way upright. “Right,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Right, okay.”

Rey waits for his hand to move off of her waist. When it doesn’t, she clears her throat and pokes it, gently.

“Right,” Kylo says again. He pulls away from her like she’s lit him on fire. Rey doesn’t stick around to question him as to why; she’s off the couch and heading for the bathroom between one breath and the next.

“There’s cereal in the cupboard,” she calls as she starts down the hall. “And I have instant coffee, but we can pick some up on the way, if you want. I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

If he responds, Rey doesn’t hear him. She closes the bathroom door behind her with a definitive ‘thud’ and spends the next several moments staring into the mirror, trying to get her breathing back under control. Her cheeks are a brilliant shade of red, but she doesn’t want to think about why.

Last night has locked itself in her memory in a half-blurred state, more a series of snapshots than anything extended or concrete. The anger that resided in her chest feels cool, now, and she remembers apologies – laughing ones, but apologies, nonetheless. Kylo’s breath had been soft and his hands had been warm; she doesn’t remember the space between them shrinking, but the sudden memory of beer and heavy eyes and –

“Yes, Kylo, I’d kiss you.”

Rey swears. Her voice echoes off the bathroom walls, and she winces despite the gratification that builds in her breast. She closes her eyes and swears again, this time softer.

After a few seconds, maybe less, there comes a telltale knocking on the bathroom door. “You alright?” Kylo asks. His voice is barely muffled by the few inches of wood between the two of them.

“I’m fine.” Rey’s voice comes out shrill. “Don’t worry, I just – I just tripped.”

The floorboards outside the bathroom door creak, but Rey doesn’t hear Kylo walk away. She holds her breath until he turns away, his footsteps echoing as he returns to the kitchen.

Her shower is too quick to be enjoyable, but Rey really doesn’t care. When she tumbles out of the bathroom, makeup on and hair still damp, it’s to find Kylo sitting on her couch with a bowl of cereal in his hands.

“You have shit taste,” he says, mouth full of bran flakes. “I didn’t think anyone under forty five ate Fiber One.”

“Oh, shut up,” Rey snorts. “What do you have to do to be ready to go?”

Kylo glances around the apartment, and then shrugs. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

Rey nods. She finds it for him and shoos him in the direction of the bathroom, then heads to the kitchen to pour her own bowl of cereal. She scarfs down what she can in the short time he takes, then sets the half-full bowl back down on the counter.

It is eighty twenty three in the morning.

Kylo shrugs on a jacket Rey doesn’t remember seeing and runs his hand through now-wet hair. Rey glances at it and frowns as she goes to gather her things.

“Did you take a shower?”

“Stuck my head under the stink,” Kylo mutters. Rey turns away from him and fights back a smile; she wants, for a moment, to go and see if he used any of her shampoo. Instead, she focuses on shoving her sheet music into her bag.

They leave the apartment together, though Rey lags behind, locking her door and jogging to keep up with Kylo’s long strides. She leans over the staircase and peers down into the parking lot, narrowing her eyes as Kylo continues downward.

“Kylo?” she calls. From the bottom of the staircase, the man looks up. “That’s not your car, is it?”

It may be the distance, but Rey thinks she sees the tips of his ears go red. “It’s my mother’s,” he says. “My car is still at the Coruscant. As are all my things.”

Rey huffs and furrows her brow before hurrying down the steps. By the time she’s reached the car, Kylo is already inside and the engine is purring.

They make it halfway to the Coruscant before Rey breaks the companionable silence.

“So,” she says, “about last night.”

Kylo doesn’t speak, but the corners of his mouth drop low. The car takes a sudden and sharp turn to the right.

Rey hesitates before she speaks. “We’re okay now…right?” she asks. “I mean – I remember you apologizing, and I do accept, so long as you don’t push me to do anything else too…intense while this is going on.” She fidgets and plays with her hands in her lap. “I don’t feel angry anymore,” she admits. “And I really don’t want to get angry again.”

She looks over at Kylo through her lashes and forces the biggest puppy dog eyes she can imagine on his stoic face. He glances at her for a second, maybe two, before turning his attention back to the road. A sliver of hope flares in Rey’s chest when she sees him crack a smile.

“I think that if we stopped fighting now, we’d throw everyone off,” he admits.

“Then how about this,” Rey says. “If we have a problem, we can talk it out outside of the theater. Real life gets set aside whenever we’re on stage, or practicing.”

“That’s – professional,” Kylo says with a nod. “It sounds like a good plan.”

Rey tilts her head and looks at him, trying to parse out the expression on his face. Kylo glances at her again and quirks a brow. “I’m still sort of asleep,” he admits. “You don’t have to be afraid just because I’m agreeing with you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Rey drawls. “I’m just confused.”

“Well, do you want me to disagree?”

“Not really.” Rey grimaces and settles back in her seat. She fixes her eyes on the road and watches it for a while, blinking as the sun starts to peek around buildings and down along side streets. “Do you think –” she begins, then bites her lip. “Do you think we’ll ever be friends?”

Kylo hums. The light at the intersection ahead of them turns red, and he slowly brings the car to a stop. He doesn’t look at her, but taps his fingers against the leather steering wheel.

“I want to be friends,” he says, his voice soft. “But I’m not sure if we can do that.”

Rey watches the light. Her hands clench at her sides, then slowly unfold. When the light turns green, she glances at him again. “I’m willing to try if you are.”

The noise that leaves Kylo’s mouth isn’t a laugh. He shuffles in the driver’s seat, runs a hand through his hair, then gives her the shortest of nods. “Okay. We can try.”

“Good,” Rey nods, as well. She looks away from him and returns to her study of the street. “Good. That’s – good.”

The car begins to fill with silence. Rey grits her teeth and doesn’t say a word, instead watching and waiting for the Coruscant to come into view. Its golden dome glitters in the morning light, and it brightens something strange and heavy that’s settled on her heart. She watches it with greedy eyes as Kylo pulls into the staff parking lot.

Rey goes to unbuckle as he pulls into a spot, but his hand – warm, even in the cool morning, reaches out and stops her.

“Rey?”

“Hm?”

He looks – she’s not sure how he looks. His eyes have gone wide, despite the fact that the sun must be blinding him, and he’s young in a way she’s never quite seen before. He pulls his hand away from hers and brings it to his side, tucking it in before putting the car into park.

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking away. “I really am.”

Rey’s confusion softens into a smile. Hesitantly, she reaches out and brushes her fingers over his scarred up knuckles. “I know you are,” she says. “And it’s okay. All we’ve got to do is move on from here.”

Kylo nods. He lingers a moment longer, then unfolds himself and moves out of the car. Rey follows after him, trailing behind as he makes his way up the front steps. The marble is quiet under her sneakered feet.

She whispers her thanks as Kylo holds open the door. They walk through the Coruscant lobby together, ignoring the looks from their fellow performers as they make their way into the back. Kylo keeps his gaze on the door in front of them; Rey, instead of ducking her head like her instincts are telling her to, meets the gaze of every person staring and beams at them.

Some of them manage to smile back. The rest look away.

Kylo holds the next door open for her, as well. Rey slips inside and falls in step beside him again until the hall breaks off, verging in two directions.

“So,” she says, glancing up at him. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kylo nods. “You have practice with my mom today, right?”

“Right.”

“Then I’ll see you after that.”

“Alright.”

Someone slips past them, though Rey doesn’t get the chance to see who; their gaze is fixed firmly on the floor. She clears her throat and turns away, walking down the hall and listening as her footsteps echo off of the cement walls. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t even breathe until she’s rounded the corner that takes her in the direction of the practice rooms.

By the time she’s waved good morning to Poe, there’s a new test message waiting for her on her phone.

<< Finn Trooper:

Good morning, peanut. I’d assume you’re dead, but people are telling me that you just walked into work with Kylo Ren? >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

Shit, Finn, I am so sorry. I’m fine. >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

Yeah, I did. >>

<<Finn Trooper:

…. >>

<< Finn Trooper:

EXPLAIN. >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

Can we do this later? I’m still pretty tired. >>

<< Finn Trooper:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! >>

<< Finn Trooper:

We’re doing lunch. You’re not getting out of it. Have a good morning practice. >>

Rey almost laughs at him – almost. Instead, she sets her phone aside and glances at herself in the practice room mirror before dragging out her scores. Her hair’s a bit unkempt, but the dark circles under her eyes have lightened some. Her lips curl upward for a moment, but she forces herself to focus.

Her morning warm up takes time, but she’s patient through it all. By the time the house is ready for rehearsal, she’s feeling loose, like the world’s spinning on its axis properly again.

*

Luke passes practice news alerts around by word of mouth instead of something practical like email: the day’s practice, Rey discovers thanks to a newly found Finn, is not in their usual practice room, but on the Coruscant main stage. The orchestra has been called in; pencils and highlighters are mandatory.

Rey’s squeal makes Finn put his fingers in his ears, but he’s grinning at her while he does.

The cast has thrown themselves about the stage by the time the two of them arrive. The pit is full and noisy with the sounds of tuning; Rey shivers as a percussionist begins to tune the timpani. Finn links their elbows together and drags her around the stage, saying hello to everyone with his usual pep. More than a few of the cast give Rey knowing looks, but she ignores them, pasting a smile onto her face that’s only the smallest bit false.

Luke arrives a few minutes into the hour with both Leia and Kylo at his side. He waves merrily at all the cast before calling for them to take a seat, either on the edge of the stage or out in the audience.

“We’ll be doing a bit of a dry run today, folks,” he says, once everyone quiets down. “You’ll be invited up as we move through individual pieces. We’re in for a long day, but I think it will be worth it.”

Finn and Rey exchange looks. Finn rolls his eyes and Rey huffs, but both of them are smiling.

“Finn, dear sister,” Luke continues. “If you’d find your positions, please, we shall begin with the auction and overture. Everyone else, find somewhere else to sit!”

Rey laughs along with the rest of them and makes her way off the stage. She touches Finn’s shoulder and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “Break a leg,” she teases before sauntering off stage. Finn shakes his head and laughs as she descends.

She finds Jessika in the front row of seats and takes the spot next to her.

“Excited?” Jessika asks.

“If I wasn’t, I’d be in the wrong line of work,” Rey laughs. She sees Phasma lingering by the stage and waves her over. The taller woman comes quietly, though she takes the seat closest to the aisle – her scene comes up straight after the overture, so it makes sense, but it’s also the seat closest to Jessika. Rey glances between the two women and does her best to fight down a smile, but even the dimmed house lights can’t hide Jessika’s flush.

“So,” Phasma drawls, leaning around the girl to nudge Rey’s arm. She nods a few rows back, where Rey knows without looking that Kylo Ren is sitting. “Rumor has it that you two made up.”

“I didn’t know the rumors said we were fighting,” Rey says, sticking her nose in the air. Phasma snorts, and Rey drops the act. “I guess we did,” she says with a shrug. “We’re going to try and be friends – at least until this performance is over. We figured it would make it easier on everyone else.”

Both Jessika and Phasma look thoroughly unconvinced. Rey opens her mouth to defend herself, but then Luke is tapping his music stand and the theatre is falling quiet.

What little singing takes place during the auction is almost uninteresting compared to the sounds of the full orchestra. Rey closes her eyes in one of the building moments and lets the music wash over her. It is nothing like listening to a video online; it is feel and she can feel it rattling in her bones. She opens her eyes again only to find that Jessika is nudging her.

“Come on,” Jessika says, her eyes gleaming. “We’ve got to head up.”

Phasma is moving ahead of them, backlight by the stage lights. Hux joins her, though he stays further back, lingering in the shadows as the overture begins to wind down. Then Phasma is ascending the steps, and Rey is following, and the music shifts and leaves Phasma struck, center stage.

The solo transitions smoothly into “Think of Me”, and then Rey finds herself blinded by the house lights, singing with her arms stretched out towards her audience. Gentle applause breaks out after she’s finished, so she offers her compatriots a brief, joking bow before turning her attention to Jessika. ‘Angel of Music’ passes quickly, and then she’s facing Kylo.

It’s their smoothest run of the title song yet: passionate, but without any real-life bleed over. The collective sigh of relief when the song comes to an end is audible, and it makes the odd member of the cast chuckle. Rey nearly does, herself, but then the orchestra is stirring, and ‘Music of the Night’ begins.

Kylo moves around her slowly in great semicircles, a hunter observing his prey. They keep the blocking simple, but he still lifts her from her spot stage left and brings her to center stage, directing her gaze up towards the ceiling of the theater. His touches are sure, but he ghosts his hands over her instead of truly touching her. Rey leans in to feel his hand, once, when it is no longer there, and nearly stumbles from her place.

Kylo’s hands are on her waist in a moment. Rey sucks in a hasty breath and lets her eyes flutter shut, then feels Kylo’s hand traipse upward to cup her jaw. She sinks into him, letting him move around her to take her hand a lead her away. When she sees her ‘double’ she faints, as directed, and falls straight into his waiting arms.

The applause that follows their performance is more than polite. Rey slips from Kylo’s arms, supporting herself as she resettles on the stage, and waves the noise away. She retreats from center stage to take her place in her ‘bed’, but instead finds that Luke has made his way onto the stage.

“Well done,” he says, clapping her on the shoulder. “I think that’s a fair run, for now. I didn’t mean for us to go so long.” A chuckle runs through the cast. “You’re all free for lunch!” Luke calls. “I expect you back here in ninety minutes and prepared to run…well, just about everything else.”

Rey shares a glance with Kylo and offers him what she hopes is a friendly shrug. She stays on stage a moment longer, watching Leia make her out of the auditorium and onto the stage. She turns away as her mentors bring their heads together and begins to look through the crowd for Finn. She’s just spotted him when a hand touches her elbow.

Leia smiles when Rey turns back. Over her shoulder, Luke is staring, but his face remains impenetrably cheerful.

“I won’t keep you from your lunch, dear,” Leia says. “But if you’re free after practice today, I’d like to speak with you in my office. Would you be able to do that?”

“Of course,” Rey says. She brushes her hand over Leia’s before moving away, following Finn through the dark and chasing him down in the Coruscant halls. She doesn’t see her mentor follow her with her eyes, nor does she feel the gaze of her mentor’s son.

Finn is waiting for her around the first bend in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a smile on his face. He links their arms together once again as Rey slows, balancing her out as she nearly goes stumbling.

“So, peanut,” he says, voice full of laughter. “Where are you taking me?”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Rey snorts. Finn laughs, but there’s something about him that cools some of Rey’s amusement. She squeezes his arm as they walk towards the lobby, then clucks her tongue thoughtfully. “It doesn’t really matter to me where we go,” she admits. “But maybe not Chinese food?”

Finn sighs, then acquiesces, accompanying all of his play-whining with a wink. Rey rolls her eyes and bumps her elbow against his, bracing herself against him as they walk out into the cold.

They walk past Leia’s car in the parking lot, but neither of them look at it.

*

The rest of the orchestral run through goes as smoothly as it can. There’s still the occasional fudged note and some issues with blocking, but otherwise, Luke declares it a success. By the time the day comes to an end, even the most cheerful of the cast are grumbling or complaining of headaches, and Rey isn’t much better. She manages to grab Kylo before he disappears into the shadows and drag him aside, just as the rest of the cast are filing out of the theatre.

“I can’t do a practice today,” she says, rubbing her temples. “If I have to stay in here much longer, I think I’m actually going to lose my mind.”

Kylo grumbles something that sounds like agreement, but Rey doesn’t hear him actually say the words. When she looks up at him, he has his eyes pressed closed, no doubt fighting off a headache of his own. It takes a moment’s hesitation for her to convince herself, but Rey reaches out and presses her hand to his bicep.

“Get some rest,” she says, careful to keep her tone neutral. “Preferably in a bed and not on a couch.”

Kylo laughs his barking laugh and nods, then opens his eyes to look at her. For a moment, Rey swears that he almost looks fond.

“Go see my mother,” he says, and his voice nearly cracks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rey nods her goodbye as he walks away. She debates _not_ going to Leia’s office specifically to spite him, but she thinks better of it quickly – there’s some time before her costume fitting, and really, what else does she have to do?

Leia is out meeting with Luke when Rey arrives. She settles into one of the chairs and listens to Tres Pio take phone calls while simultaneously making small talk about her practice and his boyfriend. Rey’s headache has doubled by the time Leia arrives.

The older woman looks almost sympathetic as she pulls Rey into her office. “I won’t keep you long,” she says. She opens the mini fridge beneath her desk and pulls out a cola, then pushes it across the desk. Rey takes it without a thought and pops the top, drinking and wincing at the carbonation. Leia sees her and fights back a laugh.

“I don’t drink it often, either,” she says, pulling out a can for herself. “But after a day like today, I find that it helps.”

“Makes sense,” Rey nods. She takes another sip and closes her eyes, wincing once again. When she opens her eyes, it’s to find Leia staring at her. Rey furrows her brow at her mentor’s almost guilty look.

“So,” Leia says, tapping her fingers against the wood of her desk. “Rey. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I have a few questions for you.”

The wrinkle between Rey’s brow deepens. “What kind of questions?”

Leia refuses to meet her gaze. She takes a long pull from her soda and sets it aside. Rey does the same a moment before she speaks.

“What kind of intentions do you have for my son?”

Rey chokes. The carbonation burns through her nose and threatens to overwhelm her, but she fights it back. All the same, her eyes start to water. “Sorry?”

Leia, if possible, looks all the more guilty. She reaches below her desk again and pulls out a tissue, then presses it into Rey’s hand. Rey accepts as she starts to explain.

“I want to know about you and my son,” she says again. “He was supposed to return my car to me by six this morning. Instead, I get a text just after midnight last night informing me that he won’t be able to make it home, and that Luke will be picking me up instead.” The look on her face _could_ be called amused, but Rey knows better. “If this is going to be a frequent occurrence, I would really like to know about it.”

“It’s definitely not going to be,” Rey says. “Nothing happened last night, I swear. I mean, he apologized for being an ass, and then I sort of fell asleep on him, but otherwise, _nothing happened_.”

To her great surprise, Leia snorts. Her mentor takes another drink from her soda. “Well, I suppose that’s progress,” she admits. The look she gives Rey makes the younger woman squirm. “Are you sure nothing else happened?”

“I swear,” Rey insists. “We’ve agreed to try and be friends through this whole performance. I don’t know how well that’s going to go, but we’ve agreed to try.”

Leia blinks. For a moment, she looks just like her son, a thin strand of hair falling into her face as she works through her confusion. “I suppose I should be glad of that,” she says, at last.

“It’s the least I could do,” Rey admits. She looks down and studies the curve of her nails. “He’s a talented performer and obviously a good son –”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Leia says with a chuckle.

Rey shrugs, helplessly. “I told him that I didn’t want to like him, but that I do, anyway,” she admits. “And that’s true. I really didn’t want to like him when we first started working together.”

Something in Leia’s expression softens. She leans back in her chair and lets her arms fall onto her desk as she looks out the office’s far window.

“He was there the day we looked over your audition tape, you know,” she says, after a beat. “When you first wanted to work for us, I mean.”

“What?”

Leia nods. “It’s almost ironic, hearing you talk about him now,” she says. “He was determined not to like you either, dear. It’s funny how things work out, in the end.”

Rey huffs, one part annoyed and one part amused. “I didn’t know anyone other than you was allowed to look at those tapes.”

Leia brushes away her concerns with the wave of a hand. “It hardly matters now. The contrast is simply amusing. In short, dear, I’m glad that you’ve agreed to a truce with my son. I’m sorry if this line of questioning made you…uncomfortable.”

Rey huffs out a noise that’s not quite laughter.

“Go on,” Leia says, shooing her away. “You did good work today; you deserve some rest.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Rey stands from her chair and pushes it back towards Leia’s desk. She’s only taken a few steps towards the door before she looks back over her shoulder with a frown. “Leia, can I – can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Leia says.

“When you cast Kylo in the role of the Phantom, did you know he and I were going to fight as much as we do?”

Once again, Leia surprises her with a smile. “I had my suspicions,” she admits. “But it would have been an utter shame to let something like that stand as an obstacle to a truly spectacular performance. That’s what I think the two of you are capable of, you know. You’re both so passionate about what you do, and so involved with everything else –” Leia shakes her head. “I wasn’t about to pass the chance to see that up.”

Rey’s mouth softens into a smile. “Alright. Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re quite welcome, Rey.”

Rey closes the door to Leia’s office behind her as softly as she can, then makes her way past Pio and out into the hall. She waits until there’s several feet’s distance between her and the door before she pulls out her phone and opens a new text.

<< Rey Kenobi:

You realize that your mother just told me that she cast us together _knowing_ that we were going to argue? >>

It takes her several moments to realize what she’s done. Rey feels a flush start to creep up her neck but ignores it, instead opting to shove her phone back into her pants pocket. The clock on the wall informs her that she has about ten minutes before her costume fitting, so she takes her time as she walks through the halls. Members of the cast of _Tutte_ are puttering around, some in costume and others not. Rey smiles and moves around them, trying not to disturb those who are reading or those who are trying to catch a minute or two of sleep.

She’s halfway to the costume department when her phone buzzes.

<< Kylo Ren:

That seems like something she would do. >>

Rey sighs. She slips through the door and inhales the smell of old clothes before bothering to respond.

<< Rey Kenobi:

I would never have thought her capable. >>

<< Kylo Ren:

That’s because you underestimate her. >>

A text from Finn joins the mix. He’s out with Poe getting dinner, but Rey answers him, anyway, and tells him that yes, she’s going to his show tonight. She sets her phone aside when she spots one of the seamstresses, turning off the sound so as to focus on the task at hand.

She spends the better part of an hour being stuck with pins and needles as Christine’s many costumes are altered to fit her body. Time in between changes is spent staring at herself in the mirror, hands wandering over layers of lace or pushing at the dark circles that have somehow gotten worse over the course of the day.

The seamstress leaves her in Christine’s graveyard cloak and nightdress for quite some time, claiming that she needs to don a wig so they can see the ensemble in all of its glory. Rey looks at herself – her undone hair, the swath of the dress, the breadth of the cloak – and feels something tighten in her throat. Glancing around the room, she steps off the pedestal and reaches for her phone.

<< Rey Kenobi:

Do you ever wonder if you’ll disappoint anyone? >>

<< Kylo Ren:

Yes. >>

<< Kylo Ren:

Why? >>

<< Kylo Ren:

You’re not still at the House, are you? >>

Rey glances at herself in the mirror again, then hears the door to the costume department open. She scrambles to get back in her place as the seamstress returns, Christine’s mass of curls in hand and a makeup artist in tow.

When Rey leaves Narnia over an hour later, she manages to respond.

<< Rey Kenobi:

I am. Sorry, I was just thinking. >>

<< Kylo Ren:

That sounds dangerous. >>

Rey can’t help her chuckle. She stretches and feels something in her back pop, releasing some of the tension that’s built up over the day.

She lets her feet guide her as she wanders, killing time before Finn’s performance. Before she knows it, she’s backstage, listening as the technicians reset the stage. The door she’s leaning against is worn and familiar, though it takes Rey some time to recognize it for what it is.

She steps into her grandfather’s dressing room an hour before _Tutte_ begins and has to hold her breath. The mirror that takes up the back wall fills with Christine, for a moment, but then Rey blinks and it’s her again. She stares at herself, frowning, and pokes the angles of her face.

<< Kylo Ren:

Can you be more specific? >>

The light of the phone feels out of place in the dressing room, but Rey goes to answer it, anyway. The thing she and Kylo share is new and small; the idea of trampling on it feels – careless.

<< Rey Kenobi:

I’m in my grandfather’s dressing room and just – thinking. >>

She sets herself up on the makeup counter and sighs. Her back pops again, and with a few twists of her feet, so do her ankles. Rey leans back against the mirror and closes her eyes. Outside, she can hear technicians calling to one another, their voices floating past her brain in some sort of fog.

Her phone buzzes. Rey opens the message and frowns.

<< Kylo Ren:

Get out of there, Rey. >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

Why? >>

<< Kylo Ren:

Ghosts aren’t going to do us any good. >>

<< Rey Kenobi:

Even the friendly ones? >>

<< Kylo Ren:

I’ve never met a friendly ghost. >>

<< Kylo Ren:

It’s bad shit, Rey. Just go home. >>

Rey sighs and tucks her phone away. She hops off of the makeup counter and makes her way out of the room, careful to shut the door behind her. She passes several of _Tutte_ ’s cast and wishes them all luck. The auditorium, when she reaches it, is just starting to fill, so she has her choice of seats. She settles in the balcony, tucked away in a dark corner, and watches as the theatre begins to come together.

There’s a flash of copper and warm, familiar laughter tugging at the corner of her eye, even as the curtain rises and the show starts. Rey focuses on the faces down below and feels herself in the moment – her aches and pains, her headache, the lightness in her chest – and listens until the noise and the memory have died away.

When she and Finn leave the Coruscant together, later on, Rey finds that her ghost has disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may be wondering: how is all of this going to be wrapped up? How in the world is it that our lovely leading characters are just now agreeing to be friends? What kind of twisted slow burn is this?!
> 
> It's my twisted slow burn, and while it's taken LITERALLY AGES to get to this point, I promise that the next chapter won't disappoint. Thanks for sticking with me, folks; let me know what you thought!


	16. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the curtain rises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. The final chapter. How does it feel for you folks? I'm all nostalgic and bittersweet; I love this piece and all the details I got to explore while writing it. I hope you enjoy this final installment. XOXO

The early weeks of April pass without Rey even noticing. In the blink of an eye, _Tutte_ has ended its run and the Coruscant stage is preparing itself for the debut of _Phantom of the Opera_. Rey passes the stage one morning and does a double take as she spots the grand staircase from ‘Masquerade’ being pushed together, three stage hands on either side of the complex set piece.

Later that same day, she finds herself walking down it, Finn’s hand holding hers and a dollar store tiara on her head. Jessika winks at her from across the stage as Luke moves them about, and Rey laughs at her, her tiara slipping out of her too-straight hair.

Their Phantom arrives a short time later, though, and that laughter is forgotten. Kylo, Rey notices, has grown tense again; over the course of several weeks, they’ve had a few snippy arguments and more than a few disagreements with Luke. Every time, though, Kylo keeps his voice soft. His shoulders bunch up and he looks, Rey thinks, vaguely like an enraged turtle, but nothing gets thrown and no one seems to get hurt.

There are rumors circulating through the cast again implying that he’s either getting laid or that he’s been abducted by pod people. Rey, privy to information about neither of these things, only chuckles softly when someone asks her what’s up.

A week before the dress rehearsal, Leia leaves a list of attending critics on the house message board. The paper is immaculate and just a hair over standard size, but whenever Rey passes it, she shivers. There’s always someone crowded around it, often with their phone out, no doubt googling a name they don’t recognize.

There are a lot of names Rey doesn’t recognize, even four years into the game. The big ones are there, but towards the bottom of the list everything gets a bit…obscure.

“Jessika,” she calls, one day, squinting at the bottom of the list. “Who’s the _Finalizer_?”

Jessika groans and leans against the message board, squishing some of the alternative schedules, audition calls, or playful memes beneath her shoulder. “A small-time musical reviewer trying to make it big by tearing down what other critics love,” she says. “They ripped the new ‘Matilda’ to shreds, even though everyone knows that it’s the best run of the show yet. They’re not well liked, obviously, but their hate reviews are getting more attention than they should.”

Rey frowns and crosses her arms. “If they’re such assholes, why did Leia invite them?”

“I dunno.” Jessika shrugs and reaches for her water bottle. She takes a long swig and smacks her lips. “Maybe so they can see a performance that they can’t critique. We’re gonna be fucking epic.”

Rey laughs and lets Jessika drag her away from the board, back to one of the practice rooms so they can polish a few notes. When she goes home that night, she settles herself on her couch and pulls up the _Finalizer_ webpage. She leaves a video of an earlier, foreign ‘Phantom’ performance running in the background, letting the familiar music soothe her as she searches through the _Finalizer_ ’s reviews.

Of all of their content – some forty reviews, even though the page’s creation date reads as just two months ago – only two performances have scored above a five on their ‘patented’ scale from one to ten. Rey opens the _Matilda_ review and can only read the first two sentences before closing it with a huff. She turns her attention back to the _Phantom_ performance and watches as this Phantom – Adrian, she thinks, maybe Adrian Nour? – stalks across the stage while Christine shivers, her white dress delicate and floating across the water.

From here, the days blur. Rey doesn’t even know what time it is, let alone the day of the week, when she’s pulled into the costume department for her final fitting. She divides her time between spinning on the pedestal and chatting with Phasma, who’s also found herself a captive of the costume mistress.

The first time the other woman comes out with her proper Carlotta wig on, Rey nearly falls over laughing.

“How tall is that thing?” she asks, when she manages to catch her breath.

“Two feet,” Phasma grumbles. She brushes a grey curl out of her face and winces as the now-present hair dresser adjusts something on the back of her head. “I tried to convince them to make it shorter, but no, no, they wanted to see how close to ten feet tall they could get me.”

She’s whisked away again before Rey can really stop laughing, so Rey has no time to offer her condolences. She finds herself pulled off of the pedestal by gentle hands and taken over to make up, where she sits between a cluster of women, some working on her hair and some poking at her face. There’s a soft laugh from behind her, at some point, that’s far too deep to belong to a woman. Rey goes to turn and see who it is, but someone pinches her ear and forces her to look back at the mirror.

The first time she sees herself in full Christine makeup, it’s like looking at a slightly caricaturized version of herself. Rey twists her fingers in the ringlet curls at the bottom of her brown wig and smiles softly. The flurry of makeup artists and hairdressers remain hovering behind her as she looks the costume over, wringing their hands as though they await her judgement.

Rey turns back and smiles broadly.

Finn finds her in the middle of her deconstruction, looking as though he’s fresh from the chair himself. Rey sets her makeup wipes aside and lets him hop up on the counter – the staff has let her alone for this, save for the removal of her wig. Her hair is sticky from the wig cap, but she’s dealt with far worse before.

“So,” Finn says, shuffling and leaning back against the mirror. “You going out with everyone tonight?”

“Are we going out?” Rey asks. “I hadn’t heard anything about a cast night.”

“It’s a new idea,” Finn says. He catches her eye and sighs dramatically enough to make Rey laugh. “We’ve got about two hours before everyone’s heading to Maz’s. Gonna have to fight off the normal crowd, but I heard someone say that they thought it would be ‘good for moral’.”

“Is moral low already?” Rey laughs. “I thought we were doing pretty well.”

“Please,” Finn scoffs. “One day these people will realize that they don’t need an excuse to get wasted.” He winks at her, then hops down from her counter. “Anyway – you coming?”

Rey glances at herself in the mirror. She pokes at her hair for a moment and winces. She sees Finn start to pout in the mirror and can’t help laugh.

“I’ll meet you there,” she says. “Now go away. I need to get back into street clothes.”

Two hours is just enough time for her to run home and shower, then to return to the Coruscant. The late April air is cool and just a little bit wet, so her hair is still damp when she arrives. Finn is waiting for her on the front steps along with Poe, who reaches out and wraps Rey in a tight, too-warm hug.

“There’s the princess!” he says, pulling away. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Rey replies.

She finds herself relegated to a corner booth when they arrive at Maz’s despite the slowly darkening sky and the slightly over-large crowd. Someone presses a bright blue drink into her hand, and she sips at it, watching Poe and Jessika wave at her from the dance floor. She waves back but doesn’t join them. Instead, she laughs, watching Finn awkwardly slide in between the two to take Poe by the hips.

She doesn’t know what time it is when she spots her familiar dark shadow. He nods at her, then takes a seat on the open booth bench. They watch the crowd together without saying a word until both of their glasses are empty.

“Are you ready?” Rey asks, her voice barely audible over the noise.

Kylo hears her, anyway. “As ready as I can be. You?”

Rey shrugs and looks forlornly at her empty glass.

“Not still hung up on your grandfather, are you?”

Rey snorts and twists her hands together beneath the table. “Aren’t you?”

 Kylo meets her gaze for one long moment, then looks away. “Anakin Skywalker’s legacy is what took me to the First Order,” he says. “Clinging to him is…habitual.”

Rey thinks of her copper ghost and allows herself to nod.

From across the dance floor, there’s a burst of laughter. Finn and Poe are tangled up in one another and surrounded by an out of control conga line, their foreheads pressed together as they sway. Rey’s heart aches with happiness, but there’s a sting to it, this time, that dampens her smile. Kylo follows her gaze, then looks back at her, but she’s too distracted to see.

“Rey?”

She looks back at him with questioning eyes.

Kylo holds her gaze for a moment, then looks away. He stares at his feet and clears his throat, like his words have gotten stuck and he can’t force them out.

Rey furrows her brow. She reaches across the table, as though to touch his hand, only to pull back at the last moment. “What is it?” she asks again.

He stares at her hand for a long moment, then reaches for his drink. After a long pull, he sets the glass aside. “It’s nothing,” he says. He sends another glance towards the dance floor – towards Finn and Poe. Then: “Do you want to split for a taxi home?”

Rey tilts her head and keeps her smile small. She glances towards her friends, as well, and watches as they dance in and out of the shadows.

“Yeah,” she says without looking back. “Yeah, thanks. Let’s do that.”

They slip out of the bar, Kylo holding open the door, and into the spring night. Rey looks up and squints at the sky, trying to peer past light pollution in order to see the stars. Only the brightest make it down to earth, but they make her smile, anyway.

Kylo’s gaze is heavy on her shoulders while they walk, and his silence weighs while they wait for their taxi to arrive. He has the driver drop her off first and offers her an awkward wave from the back seat before he disappears into the night.

Rey spends a good hour after that sitting on her couch with her knees pulled to her chest, her head back on a pillow while she hums under her breath. She sends a text to Finn and Poe that’s one part congratulatory and one part reassurance that, yes, she made it home safely. She plugs her phone in, after that, and turns off the ringer.

Sleep comes slow, abandoning her as she tries to pick stars out of the sky. It’s two in the morning and two cups of tea in when Rey forces herself to stop staring out the window. She picks a movie at random and lets the noise fill the apartment. Her toes sink into the carpet, and a blanket falls around her shoulders like a too-warm cape.

When she wakes, it’s eight thirty in the morning and the home screen of her _Iron Giant_ DVD is flashing on her television screen. Rey checks her phone and sees several thumbs up from Finn, a smiley face from Poe, and a text from Kylo reminding her that they have practice in the morning.

Rey lets her head fall back on the couch and sighs, but even her exhaustion can’t keep her from smiling.

*

She walks into the Coruscant on the day of the dress rehearsal to find the halls…oddly quiet. Cast members are clumped together in groups; when Rey walks past, they smile, then duck their heads and immediately begin whispering again. There’s a group of them huddled outside the practice rooms and another by Leia’s office – nervous energy bleeds off them like sweat. It makes Rey’s muscles tense as she walks, but she shakes it off, secures her favorite practice room, and sings until she feels loose again.

She finds Finn in the cafeteria during lunch. It takes a concentrated effort for her not to groan at the lines of tension marking up his face. She throws herself down at his side and immediately rests her head on his shoulder.

“Doing alright, peanut?” he asks. Rey reaches out and takes one of the halves of his plastic bag sandwich. When he looks affronted, she raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not like you were eating it,” she says, taking a bite. Finn holds the expression for a beat longer, then lets it fall away.

“Can’t help it,” he says, reaching back to rub his neck. “Everyone’s so – tense.”

“Worrying about it won’t help,” Rey says, as though her muscles aren’t growing stiff again.

“I know,” Finn sighs. He seems to restructure himself in the quiet that follows. Rey lifts her head from his shoulder so she can chew more easily and watches as he pulls himself together.

“We’re going to be fine,” he says, at last. “It doesn’t matter what the critics have to say: all that matters is how we feel after it’s done.”

“And how many tickets we sell,” Rey adds. She laughs when he glares at her and takes another bite of his sandwich.

The sun is just sinking towards the horizon when the first performance announcement rings out through the theatre. Rey, secure in Leia’s office with Tres Pio, gathers her bag close to her chest and waits until the announcement is repeated, then moves to head backstage.

The women in the costume department help her into her harem dress with simultaneous dressing a dozen other people, but their hands are soft and their reassurances are welcomed. She spots Finn with his old man makeup and waves, as best she can, before her hand’s tugged back down. Phasma walks past, trailed by a string of women, and Jessika bounces from her side to Rey’s.

“You ready for this?” she says, dodging the final hairdresser who wants to adjust Rey’s wig.

“It’s a little late not to be,” Rey admits. Jessika coos at her, but it’s a reassuring, teasing thing. They walk out of the costume department together and into the wings of the stage where they can listen to the orchestra warming up.

An audience of critics never makes much noise, Rey reasons, but the auditorium seems unusually quiet. Her nerves spike in her chest, but she beats them down and focuses on the stage in front of her. The chandelier is covered by a dusty brown tarp, and curtains hide the rest of the stage from the audience’s prying eyes – it looks, Rey thinks, just as it did twenty five years ago, save for some advances in technology.

Finn wheels up beside her in his faux wheel chair and gives her a wink. Rey leans down and presses a kiss to his false hair. “Break a leg,” she says.

Finn glances down at his chair and lets out a soft chuckle. “You, too, peanut.”

Jessika disappears from her side for a moment, so Rey listens in silence as Finn wheels away and the orchestra settles in.

Before the tuning notes have faded, she feels a touch on her shoulder. Rey glances back and sees Kylo, mask in place and eyes gleaming.

“What are you doing?” Rey murmurs. “You’ve got tons of time before you appear on stage.”

“I want to see how it goes,” Kylo admits.

Rey takes a moment to silently thank the tech department for turning off their mics when they’re not on stage. She moves closer to Kylo as the auction scene begins, and he bends down, keeping their heads close together.

“Are you nervous?” she asks.

She feels more than sees Kylo shrug. “They’re just a bunch of puffed up assholes,” he says. “I stopped caring about them a while ago.”

He reminds her of Leia, for a moment, the look on his face undistorted despite the mask and makeup. Rey opens her mouth to say something, anything, but then the overture is beginning and overpowering them both.

As she turns back to the stage, Kylo’s hand returns to her shoulder. “Break a leg,” he murmurs. His touch is gentle but firm, and it almost distracts her – almost.

“You, too,” Rey whispers.

Then Phasma is moving past both of them. Kylo disappears, and Rey rushes to take her place with the rest of the chorus girls, hidden in the shadows while Phasma breaks into her solo.

The first act passes in a blur of bright lights and colorful costumes, leaving snapshot moments for Rey to remember during the intermission: Finn, looking down at her from his opera box and flashing her the briefest of smiles. Kylo’s face as he takes her hand and guides her across the catwalk. The way their voices ring out across the stage and into the audience, into the nosebleeds so everyone can hear them.

The chandelier crashes when Rey takes her bow, and the critics in the audience – professionally trained and forewarned – gasp as it shatters across the stage.

Rey’s breath catches in her throat when she thinks of it, but she’s too busy changing into her star princess costume to dwell.

It’s an exhausting night. By the time Kylo ‘kidnaps’ her and drags her down the opera’s basement, Rey wants nothing more to find a place to lie down and sleep for the rest of her life. Her voice nearly breaks as she and Kylo argue through song. Finn is quick to join them and bolsters her a little; his arms around her are reassuring. Even Kylo, in his anger, makes himself familiar; the sight of him enraged is so familiar that it makes Rey want to laugh, makes her want to fight or antagonize him further. She doesn’t, but she uses the moment to right herself and carry on.

Before she can blink, the magical lasso is around Finn’s neck, and she’s standing in front of Kylo, the final words of her desperate prayer fading in the corners of the auditorium. The orchestra goes soft. Rey breathes. Kylo goes still beneath her open palm.

It’s not a good kiss – his false lip tastes like rubber, and both of them are exhausted, but it’s a kiss. Rey pulls back, brings her other hand to Kylo’s face, and kisses his again. The music soars, then dies as he stumbles backwards, desperate to get away from her. His eyes are dark and half mad; his hands and shoulders are _shaking_ – Rey takes the moment to admire his acting, too busy trying to catch her breath to remember her cue. Finn’s release passes almost without her noticing, but his familiar hands guide her from the stage.

She returns, as she’s supposed to, and kneels in order to press Kylo’s ring back into his hand. He stares at her, reaches out, presses their foreheads together, but Rey forces herself away.

His voice is heartbreakingly beautiful as the last notes of the musical ring out, only to be silenced as he disappears. Jessika has her moment cradling his mask, the lights drop, and then –

It’s over.

Rey heaves a sigh of relief as the curtain drops. She leans against Finn’s shoulder and lets him support her as her body threatens to give way beneath its own weight.

“Remind me,” she asks, as the first of the chorus run out to take their bows, “why we do this for a living?”

Their curtain call is brief, but the critics give them kind applause.  Rey takes Finn’s hand, then reaches out in the darkness. She finds Kylo without looking at him and takes his hand in hers. He’s warm, and when she looks back, she can see a bead of sweat trickling down from underneath his wig, but his hand is dry.

Finn is the first of them to go out. He holds his hands high as he bows, then takes a step to the side and turns to her. Rey squeezes Kylo’s hand, then goes. She smiles and curtseys to the stage lights, too blind to see anyone in the audience; the noise that leaves the audience, however, surprises her. She doesn’t have time to let it sink in, though, because she’s moving to the side and turning to watch Kylo come stalking out of the wings, his original wig and mask back in place. He bows low, then reaches out to take Rey’s hand again.

Rey stands between her boys and offers the critics one final bow. Then, the curtain drops, and the whole of the cast sags with relief.

Neither of the men drop her hands, despite the slackness that overtakes Rey’s arms. She squeezes Finn’s hand first and sees him shake himself, blinking and trying to clear his vision. He squeezes her hand back, then lets her go, stopping only to press a kiss to her temple.

“Oh, go on,” she says. “Go find Poe.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Finn says, and even in his exhaustion, he manages a smile. “But he’ll never be my Christine.”

Rey doesn’t bother to not roll her eyes as he disappears with the rest of the cast. It takes her several moments to realize that her hand is still plastered to Kylo’s, even as they begin to walk off the stage together. She tries to loosen her fingers, but his grip only tightens. When she looks up at him, he seems to realize what he’s done. He lets her go with a muffled apology, eyes closed as he continues walking forward.

Rey is left to enter her grandfather’s dressing room alone. She wiggles out of her costume and washes off her makeup without putting her street clothes back on. Her phone is full of messages: some from Poe as he live-blogged the show, and some from the cast members who’ve already made their escape. There’s another party tonight, but Rey’s in no condition to go. The call of her apartment is too strong.

She’s slow to put her clothes back on, her back covered in drying sweat. When she’s finally back in her jeans and shoes, she finds herself staring into the mirror. There is no flash of copper, but she sees her grandfather’s smile flicker over her face. Rey closes her eyes and presses her forehead against the glass before slipping out of the room.

She offers waves to the few members of the cast who are still backstage, then makes her way to the lobby, keeping to the shadows as she goes. She finds a corner for herself and watches as critics file out the Coruscant’s front doors, all the while waiting for the opportune moment to run.

There’s a pause in the crowd, and Rey makes her move. She nearly makes it to the doors when a hand reaches out and touches her elbow. Rey schools her face as she turns, only to have the façade shatter at once.

Walter Snoke of the First Order smiles a snake oil smile, bringing his hand away from her elbow to adjust his tie.

“Mr. Snoke,” Rey says. “What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying a lovely performance, Miss Kenobi,” the man drawls. “Of course, I’m here on business, as well. I’m surprised the news hasn’t made it this far; the artist circle always is so gossipy.” When Rey doesn’t respond, he continues. “I’m the editor-in-chief for the _Finalizer_ ,” he says. “Only been there for two months, so I suppose the news is still – new.”

Rey blinks as the puzzle pieces fall into place. “Of course,” she says, forcing a smile.

“Indeed.” Snoke nods. “I was wondering, dear, if you had a moment to chat. I’ll be posting a review of the show tomorrow, and I’d love to have a quote from Coruscant’s rising star.”

Rey opens her mouth, but no words come out. She glances towards the door and closes her mouth again, worrying her bottom lip and trying not to sigh. She sees Snoke’s smile slip, and his eyes flash with something like bitter amusement.

“Of course, it’s fine if you can’t,” he says. “I understand that performances such as these can be tiring. It’d be a shame, though, if my review were to be lacking such valuable input.”

“You’re quite kind,” Rey manages, able to speak at last. “But perhaps you could leave me with your phone number, and I could call you when I’ve had time to process the show?”

Snoke opens his mouth to respond, but is brought up, his gaze drifting away from her and to something over her shoulder. His smile convulses as it turns into a sneer.

“Kylo Ren.”

“Go away, Snoke.” A hand comes down on Rey’s shoulder and draws her away from the imposing man. “You’re not wanted here.”

Normally, she would put up a fight, but Rey sags into Kylo’s side. Snoke looks between the two of them and does his best to rearrange his face.

“Of course,” he says, voice still slick with oil. “I just wanted some input from such an inspiring lady. Surely you can understand the urge.”

Rey _feels_ Kylo’s growl before she hears it. She musters the energy to lift her head and glares at Snoke, watching him shrivel backwards with a hesitant step.

“Thank you for your compliments,” she says, her voice still sugary sweet. “But I’m afraid I won’t be able to linger tonight. If you want to come back and see the performance again, I’m sure I’d be able to arrange a brief interview. My manager would be present, of course, but surely you wouldn’t mind?”

Snoke’s façade crumbles. He glowers her, then at Kylo, then at her again. “A little bit braver now that you have back up,” he says with a hiss. “Yes, I see what kind of woman you are.”

“Your opinion of my personal character is hardly important,” Rey scoffs. She feels Kylo’s hand tighten on her shoulder and, on impulse, brings her own up to cover his. “Now, I have to go. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Snoke.”

“Likewise.” He’s a horrible actor, Rey thinks, for a man who works in the theatre. She brings Kylo with her as she brushes Snoke aside, walking through a new crowd of critics with her head held high. She resummons a smile until she’s halfway down the Coruscant’s front steps, then lets it drop to the ground where it belongs. Her feet are unsteady beneath her, but Kylo’s hand drifts and catches her by the waist, keeping her from falling over.

“You alright?”

“No.” Rey pouts. “I’m exhausted, and your ex-boss is a maniac.”

Kylo’s abrupt laughter briefly shakes her from her stupor. Rey looks up at him with narrowed eyes and nearly misses her next step forward. Kylo’s hand tightens on her waist as the two of them make their way down the street.

“He used to say that he and I were quite a bit alike,” he says, his tone too conversation for a man who nearly ripped someone apart. “I hope that’s not true anymore, but there were times I look at him and almost believe it.”

“Oh, please,” Rey huffs. She glances up, past his face, and sees a sprinkle of stars in the sky above her. “You’re not a walk in the park,” she admits, “but you’re nothing like him. You’re blunt, sure, and a little thick headed, but I’d rather deal with that than someone who thinks he can manipulate everyone into doing his bidding.”

Kylo is silent beside her. Rey plows forward, her mouth running faster than her brain. “You’re nicer than he is, anyway, and a lot less petty. I mean, who becomes a critic just to tear people down? I don’t even know why he’s in this industry if he hates it so much. You’re not like that at all: you love what you do, and it shows. Someone would have to be blind to miss that. You’re dedicated and passionate and brilliant, really, you’re brilliant, and you are _nothing_ like that piece of grease-stained shit.”

There’s a huff from above her that makes her stop in her tracks. Rey looks up. Kylo is shaking – shaking like was during their performance, but he’s covering his mouth, now, and his eyes are far too bright. Her confusion only seems to make things worse; his shoulders heave as he bursts out into wild, unhindered laughter.

Rey tilts her head, the corner of her mouth quirking upward with a smile. “What is so funny?”

Kylo waves at her, still too caught up in laughter to form a sentence. It takes him several minutes to get himself back under control, and even then, he’s wiping tears from his eyes. “I don’t think anyone I’ve ever met has been so rude and so complimentary all at once,” he says, shaking his head. “Oh, I wish I had recorded that.”

Rey sighs and throws her hands up in the air, but her smile grows all the larger. “You’re an idiot,” she says, turning her back to the man. She manages to take a few steps before Kylo catches up to her. His hand falls back around her waist, and his smile in the dark is bright.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice dropping low. “Really, Rey. Thank you.”

A lump appears in Rey’s throat that she has to fight to swallow. She offers him a shrug and pats the hand that’s on her waist. “You’re welcome, Kylo.”

They walk on, letting quiet settle between them. Kylo’s amusement lingers, and he chuckles, now and then; Rey pinches his hand when he does, but that only makes it worse. It’s not until her apartment complex comes into view that she remembers he has a car, but by then, it’s too late.

“Probably wasn’t practical for you to follow me home,” she mutters, casting her gaze down to the sidewalk. She misses the way Kylo flushes, but she feels him shrug.

“It was either that or worry about Snoke coming after you,” he says. “He’d have done it, too. Good news is that he hates me, so you should be out of trouble. At least until the review comes out.”

“I don’t care what the review ends up saying,” Rey grumbles. She’s still unsteady on her feet, but there’s enough energy in her to make it up the stairs and to her couch. Any further, she’s not sure. “Thank you, though. For this. And for being friends with me, because that’s pretty nice.”

She’s looking up, this time, so when the flush she’d written off as an effect of the streetlights gets darker, she sees it. Kylo doesn’t say anything, just looks away, guiding her up the stairs until they arrive at her apartment door.

Rey gentle detaches his hand from her waist and fishes through her bag in order to find her keys. Cool metal in hand, she turns to him with a smile.

“Thank you,” she says again. “I’ll – I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Kylo nods, but says nothing. It’s not until Rey goes to turn around that he moves, placing one of his hands back on her shoulder.

“I’m not sure how well you remember this,” he says, his voice low but rushed. “But that night I slept on your couch – the night you fell asleep on me – you said you wouldn’t mind kissing me again.”

Rey looks at him and feels her eyebrow creeping upward. Kylo looks her in the eye, then casts his gaze to the floor.

“Kylo,” Rey says, her voice coming out a touch too low. “Are you asking me to kiss you?”

It takes him a moment to respond. “Only if you want to,” he says, at last. “And if you don’t, I can leave, and we can never mention this again.”

His hands are held together behind his back, and he refuses to look at her – hard to do, Rey knows, when he’s about a foot taller than her and she’s directly in his line of sight. She hesitates, then drops her keys into her pocket. With slow, careful movements, she brings her hand up to his cheek. Then she pushes herself up on her toes and gently presses her lips to his.

His real lips are soft and just a little bit dry after a night of performing. He lets out the quietest sigh against her mouth and is quick to kiss her back, his hand leaving her shoulder to wrap around her and draw her close. Rey leans into him and lets him hold her up, supporting her where her legs may have otherwise failed. They stand there swaying in the off-white light of the hallway until they have to break apart. Kylo follows her down even as he’s struggling to breathe and presses his forehead to hers, then pulls away to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before kissing her again. “Thank you, thank you.”

Rey giggles into the kiss, but her words have long fled.

She doesn’t know how long they stay in the hallway, but eventually she reaches for her keys again. Without pull her lips from Kylo’s, she guides the two of them into the apartment, letting the door slam behind her. Kylo parts their lips for a moment to send her a questioning look, but she only responds by pushing him down the hall.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re going to bed,” Rey replies and immediately grimaces at her wording. “I mean, we’re going to _sleep_ ,” she clarifies. “We’ll figure out where this is going in the morning, when we’re feeling more responsible.”

“Maybe you’re responsible,” Kylo grumbles, pressing kiss after kiss to the cross of her neck. “I’ve never claimed to be.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

They tumble into her bed with their shoes still on. Rey toes off her strappy sandals as she goes to straddle the man, her head heavy and her lips swollen. Kylo groans with the weight of her and lets his hands rest on her waist.

“I thought you said we’re sleeping,” he says as she grinds down on him. His voice breaks mid-word and drains into a groan that makes Rey’s body tingle.

She leans down and kisses him before she responds. “We are,” she says. “Just – a little bit longer?”

“Like I’m going to say no.”

Rey grinds down on him again, feeling him half hard against her. His lips are like pillows, warm and inviting, and she devours them. Her body rejoices as they press together while a part of her wonders – if they’d done this months ago, would practices have been so tense?

Kylo bucks up against her, and suddenly it doesn’t matter.

Rey kisses him and scoots up further on the bed, giving her knees better purchase on the comforter. His hands are tight on her waist, but one is moving gently up her back, running up and down her spine. She leans down against him and presses her chest to his, taking her lips and kissing along his jawline. She finds a spot in the cleft of his neck that makes him squirm when she kisses it, so she stays there, wrapping her hands tight in his shirt while he pushes up against her. It feels wonderful; she could keep doing this for hours.

“Rey,” Kylo manages, his voice taut and beautiful. “This isn’t sleeping.”

Rey forces herself away from his neck and looks down at him. His pupils are blown out and his face is soften with affection; his lips look thoroughly kissed. His hips kant against hers in tiny motions, like he can’t quite help himself, even though he knows better.

She loves it.

“I know it’s not,” she says, and oh, yes, there was a time when she was tired. “But is it a problem?”

Kylo’s chuckle reverberates through her entire body. “No. But I wanted to check with you.” One of his hands travels upward until it’s tangled in her hair. He undoes her buns, one by one, until her rubber bands are either snapped or on the other side of the bedroom. Her hair hangs long and loose over her shoulders, a little nasty from the wig cap, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He pulls her back down for a long, slow kiss, and Rey feels herself start to melt against him.

He shifts, and suddenly, there are soft blankets against her back and she’s looking up into his dark eyes. He kisses her again, once on the lips, then on the nose, and then on the eyelids. Rey giggles as much as she moans and wraps her legs around his waist.

“You,” Kylo huffs as he grind against her, and really, their clothes are getting a bit obnoxious. “Do you know how frustrating it is to work with you? To kiss you, or think about kissing you, and wonder whether or not it means anything for you?” He bends his neck and presses his lips to her collarbone, then bites, leaving her bruised and moaning.

Rey breaks away from him for a moment and struggles to remove her shirt from her body. Kylo backs off and helps her, only to then stare at her for one wild, wide-eyed moment. He presses a kiss to her sternum, then to her ribs, and then to the tips of her bra-clad breasts. Rey’s breathing is ragged, but she pushes up against him and relishes in the feel of him on top of her.

“You’re beautiful,” Kylo rumbles, and she _loves_ the way he sounds. “You’re always beautiful, Rey, but I never thought – I never hoped – _Rey.”_ He buries his face in her breasts for a moment, his hips pressing against hers and his cock hard against her. Rey grinds against him, then weaves a hand through his hair. She pulls him back to her and smashes her lips to his.

“You talk a lot,” she says, when they finally break apart. “I think I like it.” Kylo only moans, then presses his lips back to hers.

They’re a disjointed mess of progress: Kylo’s palming at her breasts, and then his shirt goes flying off; Rey’s sucking bruises into his skin as he struggles with her belt; his shoes are still on but she’s shoving his pants down to his knees, eager to press herself against him. She gasps when she feels the patch of wetness that’s been building, both on her underwear and his, and that is all it takes for him to disregard both pairs. Only a mad dash for a condom interrupts them, and they’re lucky; the closest is found in Kylo’s wallet. Rey tears open the packaging and slides it on him with ease, listening and loving the way his breath hitches every time she touches him.

“I love you like this,” she says as she aligns him with her center. She’s not much of a talker in bed, but he’s been a babbling mess since the first moment, and she feels that she can at least repay him the favor. “I want you like this all the time, Kylo, do you understand? All the time, as often as we can.”

Kylo moans something wild and incoherent, and then he’s sliding into her. Rey does her best not to tense, but she’s wet and ready enough that it’s hardly a problem. Kylo’s hand slides down her stomach to rest just above her pubic bone, and as he rocks into her, he presses down, and the pressure against her clit has Rey seeing stars. Her mind clears of everything except his name as he does it again and again, eventually moving down to the spindle of nerves and making her cry out in delight. She can feel him growing larger within her and it’s perfect, it’s too perfect, and then she’s coming, hard and fast, clenching around him like the beautiful thing he says she is. She’s still wrapped in bliss when she feels him come, too. She manages to open her eyes long enough to see his jaw drop open and his eyes slam shut, and really, it’s never a face she’d thought she’d see, but she’s so glad that she did.

He’s still coming down from the aftershocks when he lowers himself against her. He’s big – really big, she’s noticed from the beginning – but he’s unnervingly gentle, doing his best not to press too much of his weight against her. She winds a hand through his hair and guides him down, petting him until his breath has slowed and his body has gone slack.

“You know,” he says in a voice muddled by sleep. “I may be a little bit in love with you.”

As much the declaration shocks her, all Rey can do is laugh. “That’s the sex talking,” she tells him. “Let’s see how you feel in the morning.”

Kylo huffs a laugh into her shoulder. He pulls out of her and ties the condom up, then tosses it into the nearby trash can. Then he curls himself into Rey’s side. Rey presses herself against him and throws an arm over his hip. They drift like that for hours, breathing each other in as the world around them gives way to pleasant dreams.

*

Rey knows that it’s normal for the first performance of a show to be eighty percent as good as the best rehearsal, but the premiere of _The Phantom of the Opera_ on its twenty fifth anniversary goes, according to critics, phenomenally.

She can’t speak to her own performance – she’s not got the omniscient mind for that – but every one of her cast mates shines. Sure, there’s a flaw or two – her own voice goes flat at one point, and there’s a brief fumble in the chorus during ‘Masquerade’ – but it’s meaningless compared to their shining moments.

It’s an effort to fight back a smile whenever she faces Kylo on stage. His mask hides his occasional smirk, but nothing can hide the electricity within their body language.

They’d talked, earlier that fine morning, about where they were going to go (though a conversation punctuated by kisses is never a coherent one). Their definitions, for now, are loose, but one thing was made quite clear: he is hers. He all but swore himself to her in those early mornings of wakefulness, and she _knows_ it now, knows it like it’s been inscribed on her heart.

*

_“Rey Kenobi, granddaughter of the talented Ben ‘Obi-Wan’ Kenobi, debuts the role of Christine Daae and presents the story’s heroine as an innocent yet feisty singer stuck between the affections of her childhood sweetheart (played by Finn Trooper) and her teacher/partner, the mysterious Phantom (played by Kylo Ren). Kenobi has previous experience working minor roles in both operas and musicals at the Corscuant, but her work as Christine reveals a passion and a creative mind and captivates audiences old and new. It’s clear that her talent is equal to that of the grandfather who came before her, but also that she is willing to push herself to new heights. Her debut of Christine will be well remembered both as a welcomed revival and a delightful interpretation._

_For more of this story, see page A6._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I may eventually write a piece where Poe is settled in the furthest of the nosebleeds, away from all prying eyes, and able to live-blog the dress rehearsal via text. That seems like it'd be fun.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this operatic adventure! I had a blast writing it; it was great fun to explore the theatre and the process behind a production, and it was even better to do so with Rey, Finn, Poe, and Kylo. Let me know what you thought of this final chapter or of the work as a whole, and thank you for coming with me on this ride!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


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